SECRET  HISTORY 

REVEALED  BY  LADY  PEGGY  n'vAT.T.Tt 


BOOKS  BY  THE  SAME  AUTHORS 

CAR  OF  DESTINY 

CHAPERON,  THE 

GOLDEN  SILENCE 

GUESTS  OF  HERCULES 

HEATHER  MOON 

IT  HAPPENED  IN  EGYPT 

LADY  BETTY  ACROSS  THE  WATER 

LIGHTNING  CONDUCTOR,  THE 

LORD  LOVELAND  DISCOVERS  AMERICA 

MOTOR  MAID 

MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

PORT  OF  ADVENTURE 

PRINCESS  VIRGINIA 

ROSEMARY  IN  SEARCH  OF  A  FATHER 

SET  IN  SILVER 

SOLDIER  OF  THE  LEGION,  A 


.'    --'•*„     '' 

"As  I  kicked  it  away,  one  of  the  slippers  flew  off  and 
seemed  spitefully  to  follow  the  coat.*' 


SECRET  HISTORY 

REVEALED  BY 
LADY  PEGGY  O'MALLEY 


C.  N.  &  A.  M.  WILLIAMSON 


Frontispiece  by  Clarence  Rowe 


GARDEN  CITY  NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

1915 


Copyright,  1915,  by 
C.  N.  &  A.  M.  WILLIAMSON 

All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of 

translation  into  foreign  languages, 

including  the  Scandinavian 


SECRET  HISTORY 

ttEVEALED  BY  LADY  PEGGY  o'MALLEY 


SECRET  HISTORY 


CHAPTER  I 

IF  I  didn't  tell  this,  nobody  else  ever  would;  certainly 
not  Diana,  nor  Major  Vandyke — still  less  Eagle  him 
self — I  mean  Captain  Eagleston  March;  and  they  and 
I  are  the  only  ones  who  know,  except  a  few  such  people  as 
presidents  and  secretaries  of  war  and  generals,  who  never 
tell  anything  even  under  torture.  Besides,  there  is  the 
unofficial  part.  Without  that,  the  drama  would  be  like  a 
play  in  three  acts,  with  the  first  and  third  acts  chopped  off. 
The  presidents  and  secretaries  of  war  and  generals  know 
nothing  about  the  unofficial  part. 

It's  strange  how  the  biggest  things  of  life  grow  out  of  the 
tiniest  ones.  There  is  the  old  simile  of  the  acorn  and  the 
oak,  for  instance.  But  oaks  take  a  long  time  to  grow,  and 
everybody  concerned  in  oak  culture  is  calmly  expecting 
them  to  do  it.  Imagine  an  acorn  exploding  to  let  out  an 
oak  huge  enough  to  shadow  the  world ! 

If,  two  years  ago,  when  I  was  sixteen,  I  hadn't  wanted 
money  to  buy  a  white  frock  with  roses  on  it,  which  I  saw  in 
Selfridge's  window,  a  secret  crisis  between  the  United 
States  and  Mexico  would  have  been  avoided;  and  the 
career  of  a  splendid  soldier  would  not  have  been  broken. 

One  month  before  I  met  the  white  dress,  Diana  and 

3 


4  ,  «     SECRET   HISTORY 

Father  and  I  Lad  come  from  home — that's  Ballyconal — to 
see- what  geod  we  could  do  with  a  season  in  London;  good 
•tor  Diana,  I  mean,  and  I  put  her  before  Father  because  he 
does  so  himself.  Every  one  else  he  puts  far,  far  behind,  like 
the  beasts  following  Noah  into  the  Ark.  Not  that  I'm  sure, 
without  looking  them  up,  that  they  did  follow  Noah.  But 
if  it  had  been  Father,  he  would  have  arranged  it  in  that 
way,  to  escape  seeing  their  ugly  faces  or  smelling  those  who 
were  not  nice  to  smell. 

I  suppose  I  should  have  been  left  at  Ballyconal,  with 
nothing  to  do  but  study  my  beloved  French  and  Spanish, 
my  sole  accomplishments ;  only  Father  had  contrived  to  let 
the  place,  through  the  New  York  Herald,  to  an  American 
family  who,  poor  dears,  snapped  it  up  by  cable  from  the 
description  in  the  advertisement  of  ".a  wonderful  XII 
Century  Castle."  Besides,  Diana  couldn't  afford  a  maid. 
And  that's  why  I  was  taken  to  America  afterward.  I  can 
do  hair  beautifully.  So,  when  one  thinks  back,  Fate  had 
begun  to  weave  a  web  long  before  the  making  of  that  white 
dress.  None  of  those  tremendous  things  would  have 
happened  to  change  heaven  knows  how  many  lives,  if  I 
hadn't  been  born  with  the  knack  of  a  hairdresser,  inherited 
perhaps  from  some  bourgeoise  ancestress  of  mine  on 
Mother's  side. 

When  the  American  family  found  out  what  Ballyconal 
was  really  like,  and  the  twelfth- century  rats  had  crept  out 
from  the  hinterland  of  the  old  wainscoting  ("rich  in 
ancient  oak,"  the  advertisement  stated),  to  scamper  over 
its  faces  by  night,  and  door  knobs  had  come  off  in  its  hands 
by  day,  or  torn  carpets  had  tripped  it  up  and  sprained  its 
ankles,  it  said  bad  words  about  deceitful,  stoney-broke 


SECRET   HISTORY  5 

Irish  earls,  and  fled  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight,  having  paid 
for  two  months  in  advance  at  the  rate  of  thirty-five 
guineas  a  week.  Father  had  been  sadly  sure  that  the 
Americans  would  do  that  very  thing,  so  he  had  counted  on 
getting  only  the  advance  money  and  no  more.  This  meant 
cheap  lodgings  for  us,  which  spoiled  Diana's  chances  from 
the  start,  as  she  told  Father  the  minute  she  saw  the  house. 
It  was  in  a  fairly  good  neighbourhood,  and  the  address 
looked  fashionable  on  paper;  but  man,  and  especially  girl, 
may  not  live  on  neighbourhood  and  paper  alone,  even  if  the 
latter  can  be  peppered  with  coronets. 

I  don't  know  what  curse  or  mildew  collects  on  poor  Irish 
earls,  but  it  simply  goes  nowhere  to  be  one  in  London;  and 
then  there  was  the  handicap  of  Father's  two  quaint  mar 
riages.  Diana's  mother  was  a  music-hall  "artiste"  (isn't 
that  the  word?)  without  any  money  except  what  she  earned, 
and  also — I  heard  a  woman  say  once,  when  she  thought 
Little  Pitcher's  ears  were  engaged  elsewhere— without  any 
"h's"  except  in  the  wrong  places. 

My  mother,  the  poor  darling,  must  have  been  just  as  un 
suitable  in  her  way.  She  was  a  French  chocolate  heiress, 
whom  Father  married  to  mend  the  family  fortunes,  when 
Diana  was  five;  but  some  one  shortly  after  sprang  on  the 
market  a  better  chocolate  than  her  people  made,  so  she  was 
a  failure,  too,  and  not  even  beautiful  like  Diana's  mother. 
Luckily  for  her,  she  died  when  I  was  born;  but  neither  she 
nor  the  "artiste"  can  have  helped  Father  much,  with  the 
smart  friends  of  his  young  days  when  he  was  one  of  the 
best-looking  bachelors  in  town. 

Diana  was  considered  beautiful,  but  "the  image  of  her 
mother,"  by  those  inconvenient  creatures  who  run  around 


6  SECRET  HISTORY 

the  world  remembering  other  people's  pasts ;  and  though  she 
and  Father  were  invited  to  lots  of  big  crushes,  they  weren't 
asked  to  any  of  the  charming  intimate  things  which  Diana 
says  are  the  right  background  for  a  debutante.  This  went 
to  Di's  heart  and  Father's  liver,  and  made  them  both 
dreadfully  hard  to  get  on  with.  Cinderella  wasn't  in  it 
with  me,  except  that  when  they  were  beastly,  I  was  beastly 
back  again;  a  relief  to  which  Cinderella  probably  didn't 
treat  herself,  being  a  fairy-story  heroine,  stuffed  with  vir 
tues  as  a  sultana  cake  is  stuffed  with  plums. 

The  day  I  asked  Father  for  the  white  frock  with  roses  on 
it  in  Selfridge's  window,  he  was  so  disagreeable  that  I  went 
to  my  room  and  slammed  the  door  and  kicked  a  chair.  It 
was  true  that  I  did  not  need  the  dress,  because  I  never  went 
anywhere  and  was  only  a  flapper  (it's  almost  more  un 
pleasant  to  be  called  a  flapper  than  a  "mouth  to  feed"); 
still,  the  real  pleasure  of  having  a  thing  is  when  you  don't 
need  it,  but  just  want  it.  The  farther  away  from  me  that 
gown  seemed  to  recede,  the  more  I  longed  for  it;  and  when 
Father  told  me  not  to  nag  or  be  a  little  idiot,  I  determined 
that  somehow  or  other,  by  hook  or  crook,  the  frock  should 
hang  on  my  wall  behind  the  chintz  curtain  which  calls  itself 
a  wardrobe. 

The  morning  of  the  refusal,  Father  and  Di  were  starting 
off  to  be  away  all  that  day  and  night.  They  were  asked  to 
a  ridiculous  house  party  given  by  a  rich,  suburban  Pickle 
family  at  Epsom  for  the  Derby,  and  Di  had  been  grumbling 
that  it  was  exactly  the  sort  of  invitation  they  would  get :  for 
one  night  and  the  Derby,  instead  of  Ascot.  However,  it 
was  the  time  of  the  month  for  a  moon,  and  quite  decent 
young  men  had  been  enticed;  so  Di  wasn't  so  very  sorry  for 


SECRET  HISTORY  7 

herself  after  all.  Her  nickname  at  home  in  Ireland,  "  Diana 
the  Huntress,"  had  been  already  imported,  free  of  duty,  to 
England,  by  a  discarded  flirtee;  but  I  don't  think  she 
minded,  it  sounded  so  dashing,  even  if  it  was  only  grasping. 
She  went  off  moderately  happy;  and  I  was  left  with  twenty- 
four  hours  on  my  hands  to  decide  by  what  hook,  or  what 
crook,  I  could  possibly  annex  the  dress  which  I  felt  had 
been  born  for  me. 

At  last  I  thought  of  a  way  that  might  do.  My  poor 
little  chocolate  mother  made  a  will  the  day  before  she  died, 
when  I  was  a  week  old,  leaving  everything  she  possessed  to 
me.  Of  course  her  money  was  all  gone,  because  she  had 
been  married  for  two  years  to  Father,  and  Himself  is  a  very 
expensive  man.  But  he  hadn't  spent  her  jewels  yet,  nor  her 
wedding  veil,  nor  a  few  other  pieces  of  lace.  Since  then  he's 
wheedled  most  of  the  jewellery  out  of  me,  but  the  wedding 
veil  I  mean  to  keep  always,  and  a  Point  d'Alengon  scarf 
and  some  handkerchiefs  he  has  probably  forgotten.  I  had 
forgotten  them,  too,  but  when  I  was  racking  my  brain  how 
to  get  the  Selfridge  dress,  the  remembrance  tumbled  down 
off  its  dusty  little  shelf. 

The  legacies  were  at  the  bottom  of  my  trunk,  because  it 
was  simpler  to  bring  them  away  from  Ballyconal,  than  find 
a  stowaway  place  that  the  American  family  wouldn't  need 
for  its  belongings.  The  veil  nothing  would  have  induced 
me  to  part  with;  but  the  scarf  was  so  old,  I  felt  sure  it  must 
have  come  to  my  mother  from  a  succession  of  chocolate  or 
perhaps  soap  or  sardine  grandmammas,  and  I  hadn't  much 
sentiment  about  it.  I  had  no  precise  idea  what  the 
lace  ought  to  be  worth,  but  I  fancied  Point  d'Alengon 
must  be  valuable,  and  I  thought  I  ought  to  get  more  than 


8  SECRET  HISTORY 

enough  by  selling  it  to  buy  the  white  dress,  which  cost 
seven  guineas. 

Taxying  through  Wardour  Street  with  Di,  I  had  often 
noticed  an  antique  shop  appropriately  crusted  with  the 
grime  of  centuries,  all  but  the  polished  window,  where  lace 
and  china  and  bits  of  old  silver  were  displayed.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  a  person  intelligent  enough  to  combine  odds  and 
ends  with  such  fetching  effect  ought  to  be  the  man  to 
appreciate  my  great — or  great  great-grandmother's  scarf. 
I  didn't  run  to  taxis  when  alone,  and  would  as  soon  have 
got  into  one  of  those  appalling  motor  buses  as  leap  on  to  the 
back  of  a  mad  elephant  that  had  berserkered  out  of  the 
Zoo.  Consequently,  I  had  to  walk.  It  was  an  untidy, 
badly  dusted  day,  with  a  hot  wind;  and  I  realized,  when  I 
caught  sight  of  myself  in  a  convex  mirror  in  the  curiosity- 
shop  window,  that  I  looked  rather  like  a  small  female 
edition  of  Strumpelpeter. 

There  was  a  bell  on  the  door  which,  like  a  shrill,  disparag- 
ing  hit  motif,  announced  me,  and  made  me  suddenly  self- 
conscious.  It  hadn't  occurred  to  me  before  that  there  was 
anything  to  be  ashamed  of  or  frightened  about  in  my  errand. 
I'd  vaguely  pictured  the  shopman  as  a  dear  old  Dickensy 
thing  who  would  take  a  fussy  interest  in  me  and  my  scarf, 
and  who  would,  with  a  fatherly  manner,  press  upon  me  a 
handful  of  sovereigns  or  a  banknote.  But  as  the  bell 
jangled,  one  of  the  most  repulsive  men  I  ever  saw  looked 
toward  the  door.  There  was  another  man  in  the  place, 
talking  to  the  first  creature,  and  he  looked  up,  too.  Not 
even  the  blindest  bat,  however,  could  have  mistaken  him  for 
a  shopkeeper,  and  his  being  there  put  not  only  a  different 
complexion  on  the  business,  but  on  me.  I  felt  mine  turning 


SECRET  HISTORY  9 

bright  pink,  instead  of  the  usual  cream  that  accompanies 
the  chocolate-coloured  hair  and  eyes  with  which  I  advertise 
the  industry  of  my  French  ancestors. 

The  shopman  stared  at  me  with  a  sulky  look  exactly  like 
that  of  Nebuchadnezzar,  our  boar  pig  from  Yorkshire, 
which  took  a  prize  for  its  nose  or  something.  This  person 
might  have  won  a  prize  for  his  nose  also,  if  an  offer  had  been 
going  for  large  ones.  The  rest  of  his  face,  olive  green  and 
fat,  was  in  the  perspective  of  this  nose,  just  as  the  lesser 
proportions  of  his  body,  such  as  chest  and  legs,  were  in  the 
perspective  of  his — waist.  The  shop  was  much  smaller 
than  I  had  expected  from  the  window — a  place  you  might 
have  swung  a  cat  in  without  giving  it  concussion  of  the 
brain,  but  not  a  lion;  and  the  men — the  fat  proprietor  and 
his  long,  lean  customer,  and  two  suits  of  deformed-looking 
armour,  seemed  almost  to  fill  it.  I've  heard  an  actor  talk 
about  a  theatre  being  so  tiny  he  was  "on  the  audience"; 
and  these  two  were  on  theirs,  the  audience  being  me.  I 
was  so  close  to  the  fat  one  that  I  could  see  the  crumbs  on  the 
folds  of  his  waistcoat,  like  food  stored  on  cupboard  shelves. 
I  took  such  a  dislike  to  him  that  I  felt  inclined  to  bounce  out 
as  quickly  as  I  had  bounced  in,  but  the  door  had  banged 
mechanically  behind  me,  as  if  to  stop  the  bell  at  any  cost. 
The  shop  smelt  of  moth  powder,  old  leather,  musty  paper, 
and  hair  oil. 

"Well,  my  little  girl,  what  do  you  want?"  inquired  Neb 
uchadnezzar,  with  the  kind  of  lisp  that  turns  a  rat  into  a 
yat. 

Little  girl,  indeed!  To  be  called  a  "little  girl"  by  a 
thing  like  that,  and  asked  what  I  wanted  in  that  second 
hand  Hebrew  tone,  made  me  boil  for  half  a  second.  Then, 


10  SECRET  HISTORY 

suddenly,  I  saw  that  it  was  funny,  and  I  almost  giggled  as  I 
imagined  myself  haughtily  explaining  that  I  had  reached 
the  age  of  sixteen,  to  say  nothing  of  being  the  daughter  of 
two  or  three  hundred  earls.  I  didn't  care  a  tuppenny  any 
thing  whether  he  mistook  me  for  nine  or  ninety;  but  I  did 
begin  to  feel  that  it  wouldn't  be  pleasant  unrolling  my  tis 
sue-paper  parcel  and  bargaining  for  money  under  the  eyes 
and  ears  of  the  other  man. 

They  were  very  nice  eyes  and  ears.  Already  I'd  had 
time  to  notice  that;  for  even  in  these  days,  when  men  aren't 
supposed  to  be  as  indispensable  to  females  as  they  were  in 
Edwardian  or  Victorian  and  earlier  ages,  I  don't  think  it's 
entirely  obsolete  for  a  girl  to  learn  more  about  a  man's 
looks  in  three  seconds  than  she  picks  up  about  another 
woman's  frock  in  two. 

This  man  wasn't  what  most  girls  of  sixteen  would  call 
young;  but  I  am  different  from  most  girls  because  I've 
always  had  to  be  a  sort  of  law  unto  myself,  in  order  not  to 
become  a  family  footstool.  I've  had  to  make  up  my  mind 
about  everything  or  risk  my  brain  degenerating  into  a  bath 
sponge ;  and  one  of  the  things  I  made  it  up  about  early  was 
:that  I  didn't  like  boys  or  nuts.  The  customer  in  the 
curiosity  shop,  to  whom  the  proprietor  was  showing  perfect 
ducks  of  Chelsea  lambs  plastered  against  green  Chelsea 
bushes,  was,  maybe,  twenty-eight  or  thirty,  a  great  age  for 
a  woman,  but  not  so  bad  for  a  man;  and  I  wished  to  good 
ness  he  would  buy  or  not  buy  a  lamb  and  go  forth  about 
other  business.  However,  I  couldn't  indefinitely  delay 
answering  that  question  addressed  to  "little  girl." 

"I  want  to  show  you  a  point-lace  scarf,"  I  snapped. 
Nebuchadnezzar's  understudy  squeezed  himself  out  from 


SECRET  HISTORY  11 

behind  the  counter,  and  lumbered  a  step  or  two  nearer 
me,  moving  not  straight  ahead,  but  from  side  to  side,  as 
tables  do  for  spiritualists. 

"We  don't  mend  lace  here,  if  that's  what  you've  come 
for,  my  child,"  he  patronized  me. 

"It  doesn't  need  to  be  mended,"  said  I.  "It's  beauti 
ful  lace.  It's  to  be  sold." 

"Oa — oh,"  he  exploded  with  a  cockney  drawl,  and  a  rude 
look  coming  into  his  eyes  which  he'd  kept  out  while  there 
was  hope  that  the  dusty,  blown-about  little  thing  might 
turn  into  a  customer.  "Well!  Let's  see!  But  I've  got 
more  old  lace  on  hand  now  than  I  know  what  to  do  with." 

As  I  unrolled  layers  of  tissue  paper  which  seemed  to 
rustle  loudly  out  of  sheer  spite,  I  was  conscious  that  the 
customer  had  sauntered  away  as  far  as  possible,  and  was 
gazing  at  some  old  prints  on  the  wall  which  gave  him  an 
excuse  to  turn  his  back  to  us.  I  thought  this  sweetly  tact 
ful  of  him. 

Nebuchadnezzar  (over  the  shop  he  calls  himself  Franks, 
the  sort  of  noncommittal  name  a  Jacobs  or  Wolfstein  likes 
to  hide  under)  almost  snatched  the  lace  from  my  hands  as 
I  opened  the  package,  shook  out  its  folds,  held  it  close  to 
his  eyes,  pawed  it,  and  sniffed.  "Humph!"  he  grunted 
ungraciously.  "Same  old  thing  as  usual.  If  I've  got  one 
of  'em,  I're  got  a  dozen.  What  did  you  expect  to  ask  for 
it?" 

"Ten  pounds,"  I  announced,  as  bold  as  one  of  those  - 
lions  that  could  not  be  swung  in  his  shop. 

"  Ten  pounds ! "  I  don't  know  whether  the  sound  he  made 
was  meant  for  a  snort  or  a  laugh.  "Ten  grandmothers!". 

"Yes,"  said  I,  flaring  up  as  if  he'd  struck  a  match  on  me. 


12  SECRET  HISTORY 

"That's  just  it!  Ten  of  my  grandmothers  have  worn  this 
scarf  since  it  was  made,  and  I  want  a  pound  for  each  of 
them." 

There  was  a  small  funny  noise  behind  me,  like  a 
staunched  giggle,  and  I  glanced  over  my  shoulder  at  the 
customer,  but  his  back  looked  most  calm  and  inoffen 
sive. 

"You'll  have  to  take  it  out  in  wanting,  I'm  afraid,  my 
girl,"  returned  the  shopkeeper.  "I  can  offer  you  thirty 
bob,  no  more  and  no  less.  That's  all  the  thing's  worth  to 
me." 

I  tried  to  pull  the  scarf  out  of  his  hands,  but  he  didn't 
seem  ready  to  give  it  up.  "  It's  worth  a  great  deal  more  to 
me,"  I  said.  "I'll  carry  it  away  somewhere  else,  where 
they  know  about  old  lace." 

"My  word!  You're  a  pert  young  piece  for  your  size!" 
remarked  the  horrible  man;  and  though  I  could  have  boxe'd 
his  ears  (which  stood  out  exactly  like  the  handles  on  an  urn), 
I  felt  my  own  tingle,  because  it  was  true,  what  he  said:  I 
was  a  pert  young  piece.  Holding  my  own  at  home,  and 
lots  of  other  things  in  life  (for  sixteen  years  of  life  seem 
fearfully  long  if  they're  all  you've  got  behind  you),  had 
made  me  pert,  and  I  didn't  love  myself  for  it,  any  more 
than  a  porcupine  can  be  really  fond  of  his  own  quills.  I 
couldn't  bear,  somehow,  that  the  man  with  the  nice  eyes 
should  be  hearing  me  called  a  "pert  piece,"  and  thinking 
me  one.  Quite  a  smart  repartee  came  into  my  head,  but 
a  heavy  feeling  in  my  heart  kept  me  from  putting  it  into 
words ;  and  Nebuchadnezzar  went  grunting  on :  "I  know  as 
much  about  old  lace  as  any  man  in  this  street,  if  not  in 
town.  That's  why  I  don't  offer  more." 


SECRET  HISTORY  13 

"Give  me  back  my  scarf,  please,"  was  my  only  answer, 
in  quite  a  small  voice. 

Still  he  held  on  to  the  lace.  "Look  here,  miss,"  said  he 
in  a  changed  tone,  "how  did  you  come  to  get  hold  of  this 
bit  of  property,  anyhow?  Folks  ain't  in  the  habit  of 
sending  their  children  out  to  dispose  o'  their  valuables. 
How  can  I  tell  that  you  ain't  nicked  this  off  your  mother  or 
your  aunt,  or  some  other  dame  who  doesn't  know  you're 
out?  If  I  was  doin'  my  dooty,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  I 
oughtn't  to  call  in  the  police!" 

"You  horrid,  horrid  person,"  I  flung  at  him.  "You're 
trying  to  frighten  me — to  blackmail  me — into  selling  you 
my  lace  for  thirty  shillings,  when  maybe  it's  worth  twenty 
times  that.  But  if  any  one  calls  the  police,  it  will  be  me, 
to  give  you  in  charge  for — for  intimidation." 

Almost  before  I  had  time  to  be  proud  of  the  word  when 
I'd  contrived  to  get  it  out,  the  customer  had  detached  him 
self  from  the  prints  and  intervened. 

"I  beg  your  pardon  for  interfering,"  he  said  (to  me,  not 
to  Nebuchadnezzar),  "but  I  can't  help  wondering" — 
and  he  smiled  a  perfectly  disarming  smile — "  if  you  aren't 
rather  young  to  be  a  business  woman  on  your  own  account. 
Will  you  let  me  see  the  lace?  " 

Of  course  the  shopkeeper  gave  it  up  to  him  instantly, 
shamefaced  at  realizing  that  his  customer,  instead  of  ad 
miring  his  smart  methods,  was  entering  the  lists  against 
him. 

While  my  champion  (I  felt  sure  somehow  that  he  was 
my  champion  at  heart)  took  the  scarf  in  his  hands,  and 
began  trying  to  look  wise  over  it,  I  had  about  forty-nine 
seconds  in  which  to  look  at  him.  Even  at  first  glance  I 


14  SECRET  HISTORY 

had  thought  him  nice,  but  now  I  decided  that  he  was 
the  nicest  man  I  had  ever  seen.  Not  the  handsomest;  I 
don't  mean  that,  for  our  county  in  Ireland  is  celebrated 
for  its  handsome  men,  both  high  and  low.  Also  I'd  seen 
several  Dreams  since  we  came  to  London:  but — well,  just 
the  nicest. 

Because  it  was  the  middle  of  the  season  and  he  was  in 
tweeds,  I  fancied  that  he  didn't  go  in  for  being  "smart." 
I'd  learned  enough  already  about  London  ways  to  under 
stand  as  much  as  that.  But  all  the  same  I  thought  that 
he  had  the  air  of  a  soldier.  And  he  had  such  a  contradic 
tory  sort  of  face  that  it  interested  me  immensely,  .wonder 
ing  what  the  contradictions  meant. 

He  had  taken  off  his  hat  when  I  came  into  the  shop  (I'd 
noticed  that,  and  had  been  pleased),  and  now  I  saw  that 
the  upper  part  of  his  forehead  was  very  white  and  the  rest 
of  his  face  very  tanned,  as  if  his  complexion  had  slipped 
down.  He  had  almost  straw-coloured  hair,  which  seemed 
lighter  than  it  was  because  of  his  sunburned  skin;  and 
his  eyebrows  and  the  eyelashes  (lowered  while  he  gazed  at 
my  lace)  were  two  or  three  shades  darker.  They  were 
long,  arched  brows  that  gave  a  look  of  dreamy  romance  to 
the  upper  part  of  his  face,  but  the  lower  part  was  extremely 
determined,  perhaps  even  obstinate.  It  jumped  into  my 
head  that  a  woman — even  a  fascinator  like  Diana — would 
never  be  able  to  make  him  change  his  mind  about  things, 
or  do  things  he  didn't  wish  to  do.  That  was  one  of 
the  contradictions,  and  the  nose  was  another.  It  was 
rather  a  Roman  sort  of  nose,  and  looked  aggressive,  as  if 
it  would  be  searching  about  for  f orlorti  hopes  to  fight  for ; 
anyhow,  as  if  it  must  fight  at  all  costs.  Then,  contra- 


SECRET  HISTORY  15 

dieting  the  nose*  was  the  mouth  (for  he  was  clean-shaven 
as  all  young  men  ought  to  be,  and  not  leave  too  much  to 
our  imagination),  a  mouth  somehow  like  a  boy's,  affection 
ate  and  kind  and  gay,  though  far  from  being  weak.  I 
didn't  know  what  to  make  of  him  at  all,  and,  of  course,  I 
liked  him  the  better  for  that. 

"I  think  this  is  mighty  fine  lace,"  he  pronounced,  when 
he  had  studied  it  long  enough  to  show  off  as  a  connoisseur; 
and  all  of  a  sudden  I  realized  that  he  was  an  American. 
Diana  had  collected  two  American  friends  who  often  invited 
her  to  the  Savoy,  and  I'd  heard  them,  and  no  one  else,  say 
"mighty  fine."  "Are  you  sure  you  want  to  get  rid  of  it? " 
-  I  thought  he  was  a  dear  to  put  it  like  that,  as  if  I  could 
have  no  real  need  for  money,  but  had  such  a  glut  of  lace 
scarves  at  home  that  I  must  rid  myself  of  a  few  superfluous 
ones.  As  he  spoke  he  was  looking  straight  at  me  with  the 
kind  eyes  I  had  noticed  first  of  all — gray  and  yellow  and 
brown  mixed  up  together  into  hazel.  I  suppose  it  must 
have  been  some  quality  in  that  look  which  made  me  de 
cide  instantly  to  tell  him  everything.  I'd  have  suffered 
the  torture  of  the  boot  (anyhow,  for  a  minute  or  two) 
before  I  would  have  explained  myself  to  Nebuchadnezzar. 

"I'm  sure  I  do  want  to  sell,  if  I  can  get  as  much  as  ten 
pounds  for  the  thing,"  I  answered.  "Nothing  less  than 
seven  guineas  would  be  of  any  use  to  me.  There's  some 
thing  which  costs  seven  guineas — a  thing  I'm  dying  to 
buy.  My  mother  left  this  scarf  to  me,  as  well  as  some 
other  lace  I  wouldn't  sell  for  the  world.  But  it's  quite  mine 
and  I  can-do  as  I  like  with  it." 

"Let  me  see!  Ten  pounds  is  fifty  dollars,  isn't  it?" 
the  man  reflected  out  aloud. 


16  SECRET  HISTORY 

"I  don't  know,"  I  caught  him  up,  "anything  about 
American  money  or  America." 

He  smiled  at  me  again.     Perhaps  I  had  hoped  he  would. 

"That's  too  bad!  You  ought  to  come  over  on  our  side 
and  learn." 

"I'd  love  to,  especially  to  the  parts  where  I  could  show 
off  my  French  and  Spanish.  But  I'm  sure  I  shall  never 
get  the  chance  to  cross  the  sea."  I  was  three  thousand 
miles  from  dreaming  then  of  all  the  things  that  were  to 
come  out  of  this  little  affair  of  the  scarf  and  the  dress  which 
had  tempted  me  to  put  my  lace  on  the  market. 

"Well,"  he  went  on,  going  back  from  me  to  my  property. 
"  I'll  buy  this  pretty  thing  for  ten  pounds  if  you  like  to  sell 
it  to  me;  but  honestly,  I  warn  you  that  for  all  I  know  it 
may  be  worth  a  lot  more." 

"I'll  be  perfectly  satisfied  with  ten  pounds,"  I  said. 
"But  I  don't  wish  you  to  buy  just  out  of  kindness,  when 
I'm  almost  sure  you  don't  really  want  to." 

"But  I  do,"  he  assured  me.  "I  came  into  this  place  to 
carry  out  a  commission  for  an  aunt  of  mine  in  America. 
She  wrote  and  asked  me  to  find  her  something  in  a  curiosity 
shop  in  England  that  she  could  give  for  a  wedding  present 
to  a  girl  who's  wild  about  antiques.  An  old  friend  of  ours 
b  going  to  take  the  parcel  back  with  her  when  she  sails  to 
morrow;  smuggle  it,  maybe,  but  that's  not  my  business.  I 
thought  of  a  miniature  on  ivory,  but  I  haven't  taken  a 
big  fancy  to  anything  I've  seen  so  far.  I  like  your  lace 
better,  and  it  costs  just  the  money  my  aunt  told  me  to 
spend.  So  there  you  are." 

"And  there's  the  lace,"  I  added,  laughing.  "It's  yours- 
Thank  you  very  much." 


SECRET  HISTORY  17 

"It's  for  me  to  thank  you,"  said  he.  "I'm  awfully 
afraid  I'm  getting  the  best  of  the  bargain,  though. 
Wouldn't  you  rather  go  somewhere  first  and  consult  an 
expert?" 

"No,  indeed,"  said  I.  "Maybe  the  expert  would  tell 
us  the  lace  was  worth  only  five  pounds,  not  ten.  What 
I'm  in  a  hurry  to  do  is  to  dash  to  Selfridge's,  and  buy  the 
dress  I  want  before  some  beast  of  a  girl  gets  it  before  me. 
Oh,  horror!  Maybe  she's  there  already!" 

"The  worst  of  it  is,"  said  my  new  friend — I  felt  he  was 
that — "I  haven't  got  the  ten  pounds  on  me.  I  meant  to 
have  anything  I  might  decide  to  buy  sent  home  and  paid 
for  at  my  hotel." 

"  Can't  I  go  with  you  to  your  hotel,  and  you  give  me  the 
money  there?"  I  wanted  to  know.  "You  see,  I'm  in 
such  a  hurry  about  the  dress." 

He  glanced  at  me  with  a  funny  look  in  his  eyes,  and 
somehow  I  read  what  it  meant.  He  hadn't  called  me  a 
"little  girl,"  and  had  behaved  as  respectfully  as  if  I  were 
a  hundred;  but  I  could  see  that  he  thought  me  about  twelve 
or  thirteen;  and  now  he  was  saying  to  himself:  "No 
harm  carting  a  child  like  that  about  without  a  chaperon." 

This  was  the  first  time  I'd  ever  been  glad  that  I  had  sacri 
ficed  myself  for  Di,  and  come  to  London  in  my  old  frocks 
up  to  the  tops  of  my  boots,  and  my  hair  hanging  in  two 
tails  down  to  my  waist.  Of  course,  if  any  one  were  caddish 
or  cattish  enough  to  look  her  up  in  the  book,  it  could  be 
found  out  at  a  glance  that  Lady  Diana  O'Malley  was 
twenty- three;  but  even  if  a  person  is  a  cad  or  a  cat, 
he  (or  she)  is  often  too  lazy  to  go  through  the  dull 
pages  of  Debrett  or  Burke;  and  besides,  there  is  sel- 


18  SECRET  HISTORY 

dom  one  of  the  books  handy.  Therefore,  Di  had  a 
sporting  chance  of  being  taken  for  eighteen,  the  sweet 
conventional  age  of  a  debutante  on  her  presentation. 
Every  one  did  know,  however,  that  Father  had  mar 
ried  twice,  and  that  there  must  be  a  difference  of  five 
or  six  years  between  Diana  and  the  chocolate  child.  Ac 
cordingly,  if  I  could  be  induced  to  look  thirteen  at  most,  it 
would  be  useful.  As  for  me,  I  hadn't  cared  particularly.  I 
knew  I  shouldn't  get  any  grown-up  fun  in  London,  whether 
my  hair  were  in  a  tail  or  a  twist,  or  whether  my  dresses  were 
short  or  long.  Sometimes  I  had  been  sorry  for  beginning 
in  that  way,  but  now  I  saw  that  virtue  was  going  to  be  re 
warded. 

"All  right,"  said  my  friend.  "Maybe  it  will  be  the 
best  arrangement."  And  we  left  Nebuchadnezzar  looking 
as  the  dog  in  the  fable  must  have  looked,  when  he  snapped 
at  the  reflected  bit  of  meat  in  the  water  and  lost  the  bit  in 
his  mouth. 

A  taxi  was  passing,  and  stopped  at  the  flourish  of  a  cane. 
I  jumped  in  before  I  could  be  helped.  The  man  followed; 
and  though  I  was  looking  forward  only  to  a  little  fun,  my 
very  first  adventure  in  London  "  on  my  own,"  the  chauffeur 
was  speeding  us  along  a  road  that  didn't  stop  at  the  Wal 
dorf  Hotel :  it  was  a  road  which  would  carry  us  both  on  and 
on,  toward  a  blazing  bonfire  of  wild  passion  and  romance. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  first  thing  we  did  when  we  were  in  the  taxicab 
was  to  introduce  ourselves  to  each  other.  I  told 
him  that  I  was  Marguerite  O'Malley,  but  that,  as  I 
wasn't  a  bit  like  a  marguerite  or  even  a  common  or  garden 
daisy,  I'd  degenerated  into  Peggy.  I  didn't  drag  in  any 
thing  about  my  family  tree;  it  seemed  unnecessary.  He 
told  me  that  he  was  Eagleston  March,  but  that  he  had 
degenerated  into  "  Eagle."  I  thought  this  nickname  suited 
his  aquiline  nose,  his  brilliant  eyes,  and  that  eager,  alert 
look  he  had  of  being  alive  in  every  nerve  and  fibre.  He 
told  me,  too,  that  he  was  a  captain  in  the  American  army, 
over  in  England  for  the  first  time  on  leave;  but  before  he 
got  so  far,  I  knew  very  well  who  he  was,  for  I'd  read  about 
him  days  ago  in  Father's  Times. 

"Why,  you're  the  first  American  who's  looped  the  loop 
at  Hendon!"  I  cried  out.  "You  invented  some  stability 
thing  or  other  to  put  on  a  monoplane." 

He  laughed.  "Some  stability  thing  or  other's  a  neat 
description.  But  you're  right.  I'm  the  American  fellow 
that  the  loop  has  looped." 

"Now  I  know,"  said  I,  "why  you're  not  at  the  Derby  to 
day.  Horses  at  their  fastest  must  seem  slow  to  a  flying 
man." 

"This  time  you're  not  right,"  he  corrected  me.  "I'm 
not  at  the  Derby  because  it  isn't  much  fun  seeing  a  race 

19 


20  SECRET  HISTORY 

when  you  don't  know  anything  about  the  horses,  and 
haven't  a  pal  to  go  with." 

"  But  you  must  have  lots  of  pals,"  I  thought  out  aloud. 
"Every  one  adores  the  airmen." 

"Do  they?     I  haven't  noticed  it." 

"Then  you  can't  be  conceited.  Perhaps  American  men 
aren't.  I  never  knew  one  before,  except  in  business." 

"Good  heavens!  So  you  really  are  a  business  woman, 
as  well  as  a  linguist,  apparently.  At  what  age  did  you 
begin?" 

"What  age  do  you  take  me  for  now? "  I  hedged. 

"About  twelve  or  thirteen,  I  suppose,  though  I'm  no 
judge  of  girls'  ages,  whether  they're  little  or  big." 

"I'm  over  twelve,"  I  confessed,  and  went  on  hastily  to 
change  the  dangerous  subject.  "But  I  really  did  have 
business  with  an  American.  It  was  in  letters.  My  father 
made  me  write  them,  though  they  were  signed  with  his 
name.  He  hates  writing  letters.  I'm  so  thankful  your 
name  isn't  Trowbridge.  I  hope  you  aren't  related  to  any 
Trowbridges?  " 

"  Not  one.     But  why?  " 

"Oh,  because,  if  you  were,  you  might  want  to  throw  me 
to  the  wolves — I  mean  under  the  motor  buses.  We've  done 
the  Trowbridges  of  Chicago  a  fearful  wrong.  We  let  them 
our  place  in  Ireland,  while  we  came  to  London  to  enjoy 
ourselves." 

He  laughed  aloud,  that  very  nice,  young  laugh  of  his, 
which  made  me  feel  more  at  home  with  him  than  with 
people  I'd  known  all  my  life.  "You  really  are  a  quaint 
little  woman,"  he  said.  "Now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  I  do 
know  some  people  in  Chicago  named  Trowbridge." 


SECRET  HISTORY  21 

"Oh,  well,"  said  I,  "if  you  must  throw  me  out  of  any 
thing,  do  it  out  of  your  monoplane.  It  would  be  so  much 
more  distinguished  than  out  of  a  mere  taxi.  And  at  least,  I 
should  have  flown  first!  For  you  would  have  to  take  me 
up  before  you  could  dash  me  down.  And  so  my  dream 
would  have  come  true." 

"  Is  it  your  dream  to  fly  ?  "  he  asked,  interested. 

"Waking  and  sleeping,"  said  I.  "Ever  since  I  was  a 
tiny  child,  my  very  best  dream  has  been  that  I  was  flying. 
Even  to  dream  it  asleep  is  perfectly  wonderful  and  thrilling, 
worth  being  born  for,  just  to  feel.  What  must  it  be  when 
you're  actually  awake?" 

"  You  are  an  enthusiast,"  said  Captain  March.  "  You Ve 
got  it  in  your  blood.  What  a  pity  you're  not  a  boy.  You 
could  be  a  *  flying  man'  yourself." 

"Well/it's  something  to  know  one,"  said  I.  "Why,  I'd 
give  my  hand — the  left  one — or  anyhow,  a  finger  of  it — for 
just  an  hour  in  the  air.  A  toe  would  be  too  cheap." 

"  I'd  take  you  up  like  a  shot,  if  your  people  would  let  you 
go,"  said  he. 

I  gasped  with  joy.  "Oh,  would  you?"  I  exclaimed. 
"Really  and  truly,  I  didn't  mean  to  hint!  But  it  would 
be  heaven  to  go!" 

"Not  in  my  Golden  Eagle"  he  laughed,  "for  I'd 
guarantee  to  bring  you  safe  and  sound  back  to  earth  again, 
this  side  of  heaven.  I  can  take  up  one  passenger,  though  I 
haven't  yet,  since  I  came  out  here.  I  haven't  met  any 
body,  till  now,  I  particularly  cared  to  ask,  and  who  would 
particularly  have  cared  to  go." 

"And  you  would  care  to  take  me?     How  kind  of  you!" 

"Kind  to  myself.     I  told  you  I  hadn't  any  pals  in 


22  SECRET  HISTORY 

England.  You  seem  to  be  the  stuff  they're  made  of. 
You'd  be  a  'mascot/  I'm  sure.  But  your  people " 

"People?  I  haven't  any.  At  least,  a  governess  I  once 
had  said  you  couldn't  call  two,  *  people.'  They  must  be 
spoken  of  as  *  persons.'  I  have  only  persons  who  belong  to 
me — just  Father  and  a  grown-up  sister — a  half-sister. 
They  like  each  other  so  much  that  they  haven't  room  to 
care  about  me.  If  the  Golden  Eagle  tipped  me  out,  and 
smashed  me  as  flat  as  a  paper  doll,  they  wouldn't  shed  a 
tear." 

"  Poor  little  child !  But  maybe  you're  mistaken.  Maybe 
you  are  not  conceited!" 

"Yes,  I  am!  That's  why  I  notice  when  I'm  not  loved. 
Oh,  do  take  me  up.  Take  me  up  to-day!  I'm  all  alone  in 
the  world.  My  '  persons'  have  gone  to  the  Derby,  and  are 
staying  all  night  at  Epsom  with  a  fat,  rich  family.  I'm  left 
to  the  mercy  of  the  landlady  in  our  lodgings.  I'll  even 
give  up  the  dress  at  Selfridge's  to  go  with  you.  That's 
more  than  sacrificing  a  toe!" 

But  he  had  stopped  laughing,  Instead  he  had  turned 
quite  grave.  "I  couldn't  possibly  do  it,"  he  said.  "I'm 
awfully  sorry  to  refuse.  If  you  were  older,  you'd  under 
stand  that  it  wouldn't  be  the  right  thing  for  a  strange  man 
and  a  *  foreigner,'  to  kidnap  a  little  girl  and  fly  off  with  her 
into  space.  Supposing  I  had  an  accident?  I'm  sure  I 
shouldn't — but  just  supposing.  I  should  never  be  able  to 
forgive  myself.  Don't  despair  though.  If  you  can  man 
age  to  introduce  me  as  a  respectable  sort  of  chap  to  your 
father,  and  he  gives  his  permission " 

"But  how  did  I  get  to  know  you?"  I  groaned.  "I  shall 
have  to  fib." 


SECRET  HISTORY  23 

"No,  you  won't,"  he  said  quickly.  " I  refuse  to  be  fibbed 
about.  You  must  think  of  some  other  way." 

"I'm  afraid,"  I  said  dolefully,  "you  agree  with  that  hate 
ful  curiosity  man  about  me! " 

"Agree  with  him?     I  don't  understand." 

"That  I'm  a  pert  minx  or  something.  That's  what  he 
called  me — or  a  pert  piece.  It's  all  the  same  thing.  And 
I  am  it.  I  don't  mind  telling  fibs.  I've  told  lots." 

"You  poor  little  thing!"  exclaimed  Captain  March  in  a 
pitying  tone,  but  with  the  kind  of  pity  the  proudest  person 
wouldn't  resent,  because  it  really  came  from  his  heart. 
"  You  seem  to  have  had  to  fight  your  own  battles.  Maybe 
your  mother  died  when  you  were  very  young?  " 

"When  I  was  a  week  young,"  I  said,  and  suddenly  I  felt 
myself  choked  up. 

"That  explains  the  telling  of  fibs,  you  see,  and  saying 
you  don't  mind — though  I'm  sure  you  do,  when  you  stop  to 
think  of  it;  because  the  sort  of  girl  who  can  be  a  good 
pal  to  a  man  just  can't  tell  fibs,  any  more  than  the  man 
can — if  he's  worth  being  a  pal  to." 

Two  boiling  hot  tears  ran  down  my  face,  one  on  each 
cheek.  I  couldn't  answer.  I  only  looked  up  at  him, 
feeling  all  eyes. 

"  What  a  beast  I  am!"  he  exclaimed.  "I've  made  you 
cry!" 

"It's  I  who  am  the  beast,"  I  managed  to  gasp  out,  be 
cause  I  saw  he  was  badly  distressed  about  me,  and  what  he 
had  done.  "I'm  crying  because  I'm  a  little  beast.  But 
I'd  like  not  to  be." 

"  You're  not.  You're  a  little  soldier.  Will  you  forgive 
me  ?  I  didn't  mean  to  preach." 


24  SECRET  HISTORY 

"You  didn't  preach.  I  expect  you'd  talk  like  that  to  a 
real  soldier — one  of  those  you're  captain  of.  Well,  I'll  pre 
tend  I'm  one  of  those  soldiers,  and  that  you're  my  cap 
tain." 

As  I  spoke,  the  taxi  was  drawing  up  in  front  of  his  hotel; 
but  I  went  straight  on  with  my  play,  and  gave  him  a  mili 
tary  salute.  "Thank  you,  Captain,"  said  I,  "for  taking 
an  interest.  I  shan't  forget.  No  more  fibs !  I'll  work  for 
my  corporal's  stripe!" 

"Good  child!"  he  beamed  on  me,  looking  young  and 
happy  again.  "  I'll  get  you  the  stripe.  I  have  it  ready  for 
you  upstairs.  I'll  bring  it  down  when  I  bring  the  money 
for  the  lace  scarf.  Would  you  rather  wait  in  the  taxi,  or 
will  you  come  into  the  ladies'  parlour  in  the  hotel?  " 

I  thought  "parlour"  a  lovely  word,  and  very  French, 
though  I  supposed  it  might  be  American,  too.  It  was  quite 
an  adventure  going  into  an  hotel. 

My  captain  (already  I'd  begun  to  think  of  him  as  that, 
since  he'd  called  me  a  soldier)  paid  the  chauffeur  and  led 
me  to  a  big  drawing-room  where  several  women  sat,  so 
prettily  dressed  and  so  trim  that  they  made  me  feel  shabby 
in  my  brown  holland  frock  and  my  blown-about  hair.  I 
wondered  what  he  had  meant  by  saying  he  would  bring  me 
a  "corporal's  stripe,"  and  whether  he  had  meant  anything 
at  all,  except  a  passing  joke.  Somehow,  I  felt  that  he  had 
had  a  definite  idea,  but  I  didn't  dream  it  would  be  any 
thing  half  so  fascinating  as  it  turned  out. 

He  was  not  gone  more  than  five  or  six  minutes,  and  when 
he  appeared  again  he  drew  up  a  chair  in  front  of  me,  de 
liberately  turning  his  back  to  the  other  occupants  of  the 
room,  so  that  they  could  not  see  what  was  going  on.  Then 


SECRET  HISTORY  25 

he  made  me  hold  out  my  hands  (I  was  ashamed  of  my  un 
tidy  gloves)  and  receive  in  them  ten  golden  sovereigns, 
which  he  counted  as  they  dropped  into  my  open  palms. 

"I  hope  you'll  never  regret  bartering  away  your  great 
great-grandmother's  beautiful  lace  for  this  pittance,"  said 
he.  "  And  now  for  the  corporal's  stripe,  if  you're  going  to 
enlist  in  my  regiment." 

"I  am,"  I  cried.     "I've  enlisted  in  it  already." 

"Here,  then,"  and  he  took  from  his  coat  pocket  a  little 
crumpled-up  ball  of  something  black  and  gold,  evidently 
thrust  in  with  haste.  "This  is  one  of  the  chevrons  I  wore 
on  my  sleeve  when  I  was  made  corporal  of  cadets  at  West 
Point,  eleven  years  ago  this  very  month.  You'll  laugh, 
I  guess,  when  I  tell  you  why  I  brought  the  thing  with  me 
over  here.  I  kept  it,  out  of  a  sort  of — of  sentiment,  or 
sentimentality  maybe,  because  I  was  so  dashed  proud  when 
I  got  it.  I  thought  it  marked  an  epoch  in  my  life;  that  it 
was  a  token  of  success.  Well,  when  I  was  coming  over  to 
your  side  of  the  water,  to  try  out  the  Golden  Eagle 
among  all  the  English  flyers,  I  was  silly  enough  to  think  if 
she  did  any  good,  I'd  stick  this  poor  old  stripe  on  her  some 
where,  for  auld  lang  syne.  Now  I'd  rather  give  it  to  you, 
little  soldier." 

I  think  it  was  at  that  minute  I  began  to  worship  him. 
I  worshipped  him  as  a  child  worships,  and  as  a  woman 
worships,  too;  except  that,  perhaps,  when  a  woman  lets  her 
self  go  with  a  flood  of  love  for  a  man,  she  unconsciously 
expects  some  return.  I'm  sure  I  didn't  expect  anything. 
That  would  have  been  too  ridiculous ! 

I  felt  rather  guilty  about  depriving  the  Golden  Eagle 
of  her  master's  trophy,  but  after  all,  a  girl  is  more  appreci- 


26  SECRET  HISTORY 

ative  than  a  monoplane;  and  besides,  it  would  have  hurt 
Captain  March's  feelings  in  that  mood  of  his,  if  I'd  refused. 
I  had  a  conviction  that  a  corporal's  stripe,  given  as  a 
reward  and  an  incentive,  would  be  to  me  a  talisman. 
I  decided  that  I'd  keep  it  in  a  place  where  I  could 
rush  to  look  at  it  whenever  I  needed  encouragement 
to  go  on  being  a  soldier.  If  I  wanted  to  sneak  myself 
out  of  trouble  with  a  fib,  or  be  snappish  to  Father  or 
cattish  to  Di,  or  say  "damn,"  or  bang  a  door  in  a  rage,  it 
seemed  to  me  that  I  should  only  have  to  think  of  that  little 
triangle  of  black  cloth  and  gilt  braid  to  be  suddenly  as  good 
as  gold,  all  the  way  through  to  my  heart. 

Maybe  I  showed  some  of  these  thoughts  in  my  eyes 
when  I  thanked  Captain  March  (Di  says  my  eyes  tell  all 
my  secrets),  for  he  was  nicer  than  ever,  in  the  chivalrous, 
almost  tender  way  some  men  have  with  girl-children. 
He  said  he  was  just  as  lonely  as  I  was,  or  worse,  because 
he  hadn't  a  soul  who  belonged  to  him  in  England,  and 
would  it  be  quite  proper  and  all  right  for  an  old  soldier 
like  him  to  invite  a  little  girl  like  me  to  lunch  ? 

Of  course  I  said  yes — yes,  it  would  be  entirely  proper  and 
perfectly  splendid,  though  they  might  have  forgotten  to 
put  anything  of  the  sort  into  books  of  etiquette.  By  that 
time  it  was  half-past  twelve,  only  a  few  minutes  left  to 
dash  to  Selfridge's  and  rescue  the  dress  (if  it  wasn't  already 
lost)  before  luncheon,  so  Captain  March  offered  to  whisk 
me  up  to  the  shop  in  a  taxi.  He  promised,  if  the  gown 
were  gone,  that  he'd  help  me  choose  another.  But  it 
wasn't  gone;  which  showed  that,  as  I'd  felt  in  my  bones,  it 
really  had  been  born  for  me. 

"Why,  it's  a  party  dress,  isn't  it?"  my  captain  inno- 


SECRET  HISTORY  27 

cently  wanted  to  know.  "And  isn't  it  a  bit  too  old  for 
you?" 

"I  can  have  it  made  shorter,"  I  said.  "And  if  it  is  a 
a  little  too  old  for  me  it  doesn't  matter,  because  I'm  never 
invited  to  any  parties.  I  shan't  be  for  years,  if  ever.  I 
shan't  come  out  like  my  sister  Di,  I  shall  just  slowly  leak 
out,  with  nobody  noticing.  It  isn't  that  I  expect  to  wear 
this  frock.  It's  the  joy  of  having  it  which  is  so  important." 

"Girls  begin  to  be  queer  evidently,  even  when  they're 
children,"  said  he.  "But  that  doesn't  make  them  less  in 
teresting.  I  know  of  an  invitation  to  a  party  you  could 
have,  though,  if  you  wanted  it.  The  wife  of  our  American 
ambassador  is  giving  a  ball  to-morrow  night.  I  know  her 
a  little.  She'd  be  awfully  pleased  to  send  your  people 
cards  for  the  show,  if  I  asked  her.  Or  perhaps  they've  had 
cards  already?" 

I  shook  my  head.  "  I'm  sure  they  haven't.  Are  you  go- 
ing?" 

"Yes,  I've  accepted." 

"  I  know  Diana  would  love  it.  I'll  tell  her  about  you — 
and  about  to-day,  for  she  can't  be  cross  with  me  if  it  ends 
in  an  invitation.  And  you'd  be  her  first  flying  man." 

Even  as  I  spoke  I  had  a  misgiving.  It  came  like  a 
cramp  in  the  heart.  Di's  nickname  seemed  to  whisper 
itself  in  my  ear:  "Diana  the  Huntress — Diana  the  Hunt 
ress!"  I  didn't  want  her  to  shoot  her  arrow  through  this 
man's  heart,  because — well — just  because.  But  they 
would  have  to  meet  if  he  were  not  to  be  lost  to  me,  since 
he  refused  to  be  a  partner  in  fibs.  The  idea  seemed  exactly 
the  chance  I  had  been  looking  for;  and  if  the  invitation 
came  through  me,  provided  I  were  included  by  the  ambassa- 


28  SECRET  HISTORY 

dress,  I  didn't  see  how  Di  and  Father  could  leave  ms> 
out. 

"All  right,  you  shall  have  the  card,  I  can  promise  that!" 
my  captain  said  cheerily. 

"But,"  I  haggled,  "will  the  ambassadress  ask  a — a  little 
girl  like  me,  who  isn't  out  yet?" 

"Of  course  she  will.  I'll  see  to  that.  Why  shouldn't 
a  little  girl  go  for  once?  Here  is  one  partner  for  her." 

To  dance  in  the  white  dress,  with  him !  The  thing  must 
be  too  good  to  be  true.  Yet  it  really  did  seem  as  if  it  might 
come  true. 

He  let  me  select  the  place  for  luncheon,  and  I  chose  the 
Zoo.  He  said  I  couldn't  have  chosen  better.  It  wasn't 
a  very  grand  meal,  but  it  was  the  happiest  I'd  ever  had. 
Captain  March  told  me  things  about  America,  and  aero 
planes,  though  very  little  about  himself — except  that  he 
was  stationed  at  a  beautiful  place  in  Arizona,  called  Fort 
Alvarado,  close  to  the  springs  of  the  same  name,  where 
girls  came  and  had  "the  time  of  their  lives."  After 
ward  we  wandered  about  and  made  love  to  the  Zoo  ani 
mals,  and  at  last  saw  them  fed.  When  the  lions  and  tigers 
had  finished  their  glorious  roaring,  which  seemed  to  bring 
the  desert  and  the  jungle  near,  it  was  almost  five  o'clock, 
so  we  had  tea  at  the  crescent-shaped  tea  house,  in  front  of 
the  Mappin  Terraces.  I  lingered  over  my  strawberries 
as  long  as  I  decently  could,  because,  though  I  searched 
hard  for  it,  there  seemed  to  be  no  bored  look  on  Captain 
March's  face.  When  I  did  reluctantly  say,  "I  suppose  I'd 
better  go  home?"  he  actually  had  the  air  of  being  sorry. 

"It's  been  the  nicest  day  I  ever  lived  in,"  I  told  him. 

"I've  enjoyed  every  minute  of  it,  too,"  said  he.     "What 


SECRET  HISTORY  29 

a  pity  we  can't  polish  it  off  with  a  dinner  and  the  theatre. 
Look  here,  if  you'd  like  it,  Miss  Peggy,  I  guess  I  can  get 
that  old  lady  I  told  you  of,  who's  sailing  to-morrow  and  will 
take  the  lace  scarf,  to  go  with  us  as  chaperon.  What  do 
you  say?" 

What  could  I  say?  Being  a  child,  it  didn't  matter  show 
ing  the  wildest  delight.  There  are  some  advantages  in 
being  a  child. 

He  took  me  home  to  our  lodgings  in  Chapel  Street  (which 
cheaply  gave  us  the  address  of  Mayfair)  and  then  I  had 
to  break  it  to  him  that  I  wasn't  a  Miss. 

"  Good  gracious ! "  he  exclaimed,  when  I  began  with  those 
words.  "Children  don't  marry  in  your  country  at  thir 
teen,  do  they?" 

I  explained  that,  because  my  father  happened  to  be  an 
earl,  his  daughters  had  a  courtesy  title;  and  when  he  looked 
a  little  shocked,  as  if  he  were  wondering  whether  he  had 
been  indiscreet,  I  nodded  toward  the  house,  as  our  taxi- 
cab  stopped  before  the  insignificant  green  door.  "You 
see  by  where  we  live  how  unimportant  we  are!"  I  ex 
cused  myself  in  such  a  pleading  voice  that  he  laughed. 
Then  he  flashed  away  to  make  arrangements  for  the  even 
ing — our  evening! 

The  landlady  had  a  telephone,  and  presently  I  got  the 
message  which  Captain  March  had  told  me  to  expect. 
Mrs.  Jewitt  had  consented  to  dine  and  go  to  the  theatre. 
Would  I  like  the  Savoy,  and  to  see  "Milestones"  after 
ward?  And  was  I  sure  this  business  wouldn't  get  me  in 
to  trouble  to-morrow? 

If  it  had  sent  me  into  penal  servitude  for  life,  I  shouldn't 
have  hesitated;  but  I  replied  that  my  sister  would  forgive 


30  SECRET  HISTORY 

me  for  the  sake  of  the  American  Embassy  ball.  I  knew 
Di  could  be  counted  on,  in  the  exceptional  circumstances, 
not  to  tell  Father;  but  I  didn't  mention  that  detail  to  Cap 
tain  March.  I  was  afraid  he  might  think  the  corporal's 
stripe  had  been  ill-bestowed,  but  one  must  draw  the  straight 
line  of  truth  somewhere! 


CHAPTER  III 

NEXT  morning  when  Di  came  back,  I  told  her 
what  was  necessary  to  tell,  and  not  a  bit  more. 
I  explained  how  I  had  met  Captain  Eagleston 
March,  and  how  we  had  spent  the  day  and  the  heavenly 
evening.  But  first,  I  let  her  open  the  invitation  which  had 
just  come  by  hand  from  the  American  Embassy  (she  opens 
all  Father's  letters,  except  those  that  have  a  repulsively 
private  look),  and  when  she  began,  "I  wonder  how  on 

earth ,"  I  was  able  to  work  my  story  in  neatly,  as  an 

explanation. 

Di  listened  to  the  end,  without  interrupting  me  once 
except  by  opening  her  eyes  very  wide,  and  now  and  then 
raising  her  eyebrows,  or  giving  vent  to  expressive  sighs. 
I  saw  that  she  was  thinking  hard  as  I  went  on,  and  I  knew 
what  she  was  thinking:  about  the  need  of  forgiving  me  be 
cause  of  the  new  interest  in  life  my  naughtiness  had 
brought  her. 

When  I  had  finished  up  the  tale  with  our  dinner  at  the 
Savoy,  and  seeing  "Milestones,"  and  then  on  top  of  all, 
having  supper  with  Mrs.  Jewitt  and  Captain  March  at  a 
terribly  respectable  but  fascinating  night  club  of  which  he 
had  been  made  a  member,  Diana  didn't  scold.  She  said  that 
Captain  March  being  an  officer  and  a  flying  man  made  all 
the  difference,  but  she  hoped  I  would  not  have  put  my 
self  into  such  a  position  with  any  other  sort  of  man,  whether 

31 


32  SECRET  HISTORY 

he  mistook  me  for  a  child  or  not.  Even  as  it  was,  she 
wouldn't  dare  tell  Father  the  history  of  my  day:  but,  as 
they  had  made  several  American  acquaintances  lately,  she 
could  easily  account  for  the  Embassy  invitation. 

"  We'll  go,  of  course,  won't  we?  "  I  catechized  her,  know 
ing  that  her  word  with  Father  was  pretty  well  law. 

"Yes,  we'll  go,"  she  answered.  "I'll  write  an  accept 
ance  and  send  it  by  hand." 

I  was  so  enchanted  at  this  that  I  dashed  up  to  my  room 
and  began  shortening  the  new  dress.  I  had  mentioned  it 
vaguely  to  Di,  but  it  was  the  one  part  of  my  story  in  which 
she  took  no  interest.  I  saw  how  the  keenness  died  out  of 
her  beautiful  sea-blue  eyes,  and  how  her  soul  retired  com 
fortably  behind  them,  to  think  of  something  else,  just  as 
you  see  people  walk  away  from  windows  through  which 
they've  been  looking  out,  leaving  them  emptily  blank.  As 
she  didn't  care  what  little  Peggy  wore,  little  Peggy  decided 
to  give  her  a  surprise  at  the  last  moment.  Nothing  much 
was  said  about  the  Embassy  ball  by  Father  or  Di  before 
me,  on  that  day  or  the  next,  so  I,  too,  kept  my  own  counsel. 
I  was  afraid  if  I  gabbled  as  I  longed  to  do,  Father  might 
take  it  into  his  head  that  the  child  had  better  stop  at  home. 
All  I  heard  was  a  little  talk  about  the  time  to  start,  and 
whether  a  taxi  should  be  ordered  or  a  coupe.  I  thought 
there  would  be  rather  a  squash  in  a  coupe  with  Father, 
Diana,  and  me  folded  together  in  a  sort  of  living  sandwich; 
but  I  was  so  small,  I  could  perhaps  manage  not  to  slide 
off  the  little  flap  seat  with  its  back  to  the  horses. 

It  was  a  coupe  they  finally  decided  on,  and  it  was  ordered 
for  a  quarter  to  ten.  We  had  a  short  and  early  dinner,  and 
as  I  did  Diana's  hair,  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  never  seen 


SECRET  HISTORY  33 

her  look  prettier.  I  wondered  whether  Captain  March 
would  admire  her  very  much,  and  I  hoped  for  his  own  sake 
— I  almost  believed  it  was  for  his  own  sake! — that  he 
wouldn't  fall  in  love.  As  I  thought  this,  I  looked  with  a 
new  kind  of  criticism  at  Di,  to  judge  whether  he  were  likely 
to  be  one  of  her  victims. 

Heaps  of  men  had  fallen  in  love  with  Di  since  I  began 
to  be  old  enough  to  notice  such  things.  They  had  never 
been  the  right  sort  of  men,  from  her  point  of  view,  for  none 
of  the  lot  had  had  a  penny  to  bless  himself  with,  or  even  a 
title  worth  the  taking.  But  all  of  them  had  been  worth 
flirting  with;  and  after  they  had  been  dropped  with  more 
or  less  of  a  dull  thud,  I'm  afraid  some  of  them  had  suffered. 
I  didn't  wish  Captain  March  to  suffer,  yet  I  couldn't  help 
thinking  that  if  I  were  a  man  I  might  be  as  silly  as  the  rest 
and  go  down  before  Di. 

She  was  then — and  she  is  now — the  most  lovable  looking 
thing  that  can  be  imagined.  She  doesn't  appear  to  be  cool 
and  calculating,  but  warm-hearted  and  gentle  and  soft,  far 
more  so  than  most  of  the  girls  one  meets,  especially  in 
London,  where  I  think  they  have  the  air  of  being  rather 
hard:  ready  to  sacrifice  everything  and  everybody  for  the 
sake  of  what  they  want  to  get  or  do. 

If  you  were  going  to  paint  a  picture  of  Ireland,  typified 
by  a  beautiful  girl,  so  that  you  might  name  your  canvas 
"Dark  Rosaleen,"  you  would  give  the  world  to  get  Di  for 
your  model.  She  is  tall,  as  a  Diana  ought  to  be,  and 
slender  though  not  thin.  She  gives  the  effect  of  fashion 
able  slimness,  yet  she  is  all  lovely  curves  and  roundnesses. 
She  has  a  long  white  throat  with  a  charming  upturned 
chin  that  has  a  deep  cleft  in  the  middle.  It's  no  exaggera- 


34  SECRET  HISTORY 

tion  to  say  that  her  skin  is  as  white  as  creamy  milk;  and  on 
each  cheek,  just  beneath  the  shadow  under  her  eyes,  is  a 
faint  pink  stain,  as  if  it  had  been  tapped  hard  with  a  carna 
tion,  and  a  little  of  the  colour  had  come  off.  Perhaps,  if 
her  face  has  a  fault,  the  nose  is  too  short  and  flat,  but  it 
gives  her  a  sweetly  young  and  innocent  look,  added  to  her 
eyes  being  set  far  apart.  And  the  eyes  are  really  glorious: 
very  big  and  long,  with  deep  shadows  under  them  only 
partly  cast  by  her  thick  black  lashes.  A  man  once  wrote  a 
Valentine  verse  to  Di,  in  which  he  remarked  that  her  eyes 
were  "like  sapphires  gleaming  blue  where  they  had  fallen 
among  dark  grasses";  and  it  wasn't  a  bad  comparison. 
The  man  died  of  taking  too  much  veronal  a  year  after. 
Nobody  said  he  had  done  it  on  purpose.  But  I  wondered. 
He  was  very  unhappy  the  day  he  said  "Good-bye"  to 
Ballyconal.  I've  never  been  able  to  forget  his  look. 

Di's  mouth  is  large,  and  a  tiny  bit  greedy,  but  all  the 
more  fascinating  for  that,  because  it  is  so  red  and  curved. 
Her  forehead  is  rather  high,  really,  but  she  makes  it  seem 
only  a  white  line  above  her  level  eyebrows,  because  of  the 
way  she  likes  best  to  wear  her  crinkly  dark  hair :  parted  in 
the  middle,  pushed  forward  and  down,  and  banded  in  place 
by  a  rope  of  hair  from  the  back. 

That  night  for  the  ball  at  the  American  Embassy  she  had 
it  fastened  with  big,  very  green  jade  hairpins.  From  her 
little  pink  ears  hung  long  loops  of  emeralds  (heirlooms  in 
our  family,  or  they  would  have  been  sold  long  ago) ,  and  the 
gown  she  chose  was  the  same  shade  of  green:  some  very 
thin,  soft  stuff,  with  one  of  those  new  names  dressmakers 
think  of  in  their  dreams.  It  was  simply  made,  and  not 
very  expensive;  but  in  it  Di  looked  like  a  classic  personifi- 


SECRET  HISTORY  35 

cation  of  Ireland  at  its  loveliest,  and  I  was  sure  that  not  the 
best-dressed  girl  in  the  room  would  be  as  exquisite  as  she. 
I  told  her  this  on  an  impulse,  and  she  was  pleased.  Yet 
she  sighed.  Of  course  she  couldn't  help  knowing,  said  she, 
that  she  wasn't  bad  looking.  But  Venus  or  Helen  of  Troy 
couldn't  make  a  success,  handicapped  as  she  was. 

"It  might  be  different  in  some  other  country,"  she  went 
on,  more  to  herself  than  to  me.  "A  country  like  America, 
where  titles  are  more  of  a  novelty,  and  everybody  one 
meets  doesn't  remember  all  about  one's  poor  mother." 

"Now  I  must  run  and  get  ready,  myself,"  said  I,  when  I 
had  established  connection  between  Diana's  most  intricate 
hooks  and  eyes. 

" Get  ready?     For  what,  dear?  " 

"Why,  for  the  ball,  of  course!"  The  first  chill  of 
suspicion  that  I  had  been  cast  for  the  part  of  Cinderella 
crept  through  me,  like  a  caterpillar  walking  inside  my  spine. 

"But,  my  child!"  Di  exclaimed.  "You  couldn't  have 
thought  you  were  going?  Officially  you  are  a  little  girl. 
You  don't  exist,  and  if  you  did,  you  haven't  a  dress 

"  I  have  a  dress.  The  one  I  bought  with  the  money  from 
the  lace.  I  didn't  say  much,  because  I  thought  it  would  be 
fun  to  surprise  you." 

"Well,  I'm  awfully  sorry,  dear,  that  you've  been  count 
ing  on  it.  I  never  dreamed — you  ought  to  have  told 
me " 

"You  said  you'd  accept  for  'us.' " 

"I  meant  Father  and  me.  It  never  crossed  my  mind 

that  you Too  bad !  But  anyhow,  it's  too  late  now. 

Father  would  never  consent." 

I  might  have  retorted  that  she  was  the  one  person  in  the 


36  SECRET  HISTORY 

world  who  could  make  him  consent  to  anything  she  wanted, 
but  then,  the  truth  was  that  she  didn't  want  this  thing. 
Diana  had — and  has — the  manners  of  an  angel;  and 
strangers  would  think  she  was  as  easy  to  melt  as  sugar  in 
the  sun.  But  I,  who  have  lived  with  her  all  the  years  of 
my  life,  know  that  the  sugar  is  only  on  the  surface.  And  I 
have  learned  what  is  underneath.  Even  then,  I  realized 
that  Di  had  understood  perfectly  well  from  the  first  that  I 
expected  to  go  to  the  ball,  and  she  had  kept  quiet  in  order 
to  have  no  more  than  one  short,  sharp  fuss  at  the  end. 
While  it  was  being  borne  in  upon  me  that  I  was  to  stop  at 
home,  instead  of  going  on  arguing  and  "fishwifing"  I  shut 
up  like  a  clam.  I  suppose  it  was  a  kind  of  obstinate  pride, 
the  sort  of  pride  that  makes  condemned  people  not  scream 
or  throw  themselves  about  on  the  way  to  execution.  But 
when  Father  and  Di  had  gone,  I  cried — oh,  how  I  cried! 
There  was  a  kind  of  wild  pleasure  in  letting  the  sobs  come, 
and  feeling  the  hot  tears  spout  out  of  my  eyes.  In  any 
clash  between  us,  Di  always  won,  because  she  was  "grown 
up,"  and  I  was  a  "little  girl";  but  the  trick  she  had  played 
on  me  this  time  roused  my  sense  of  its  injustice,  and  with 
all  my  body  and  mind  and  soul  I  resolved  to  strengthen 
my  soul  against  her.  "Some  day,"  I  said  to  myself,  let 
ting  the  tears  dry  on  my  cheeks  as  I  listened  to  a  spirit  of 
prophecy,  "some  day  there'll  be  a  battle  for  life  or  death 
between  our  characters,  Di's  and  mine,  and  I'll  save  myself 
up  to  win  then." 

It  seemed  weak,  as  if  I  were  a  whipped  child,  to  creep  off 
to  bed,  yet  I  couldn't  force  myself  to  read,  or  do  anything 
to  turn  my  thoughts  from  the  great  injustice.  At  ten 
minutes  to  eleven  I  was  making  up  my  mind  that,  after  all, 


SECRET  HISTORY  37 

sleep  would  be  the  best  consolation,  when  our  lodging- 
house  landlady  knocked. 

We  had  the  "drawing-room  floor,"  up  one  flight  of  stairs 
from  the  street.  Luckily  I  was  still  in  the  draw-dining- 
room — a  fantastic  apartment  crowded  with  nouveau-art 
furniture  all  out  of  drawing,  like  daddy  longlegs — when  the 
woman  tapped  and  peeped  in.  If  I  had  gone  upstairs  to 
my  own  top-floor  room,  I'm  sure,  being  a  prim  person,  she 
would  have  considered  it  improper  to  summon  me  down, 
and  I  should  have  missed  a  heavenly  half  hour. 

"A  gentleman  has  called,  Miss,  and  could  he  come  up  for 
five  minutes?  The  name  is  Captain  March." 

It  was  true !  It  was  he !  And  be  hadn't  even  met  Diana 
yet.  She  had  been  dancing.  But  the  hostess  had  in 
troduced  him  to  Father,  and  Captain  March  had  worked 
round  to  the  subject  of  me.  When  he  heard  that  I  was 
"too  young  for  balls,"  he  just  slipped  out,  took  a  taxi,  and 
made  a  dash  to  Chapel  Street  to  tell  me  he  was  sorry.  I 
was  so  grateful,  I  could  have  cried  more  than  ever.  It 
seemed  to  me  one  of  the  very  nicest  things  a  man  ever  did. 
He  was  in  full-dress  uniform,  because  an  American  officer 
is  on  his  native  heath  when  he's  at  his  own  Embassy ;  and 
I  thought  that  he  looked  adorable  in  uniform. 

He  stayed  half  an  hour  instead  of  five  minutes,  and  then 
said  he  must  go  back,  and  "do  the  right  thing."  The 
right  thing,  which  he  didn't  particularly  want  to  do,  was  to 
dance  with  the  girls  who  weren't  booked  up  to  the  eyes,  and 
— to  meet  my  sister.  It  was  my  first  triumph  to  have  a 
man — and  such  a  man — put  me  in  front  of  Diana.  I  was 
thrilled  by  it,  though  I  ought  to  have  had  sense  enough  to 
know  what  would  happen. 


38  SECRET  HISTORY 

Eagle  March  ( he  told  me  that  night  to  call  him  Eagle) 
did  go  back  to  the  ball,  and  did  meet  Diana.  I  heard 
about  it  next  morning  when  I  took  in  her  breakfast :  how  he 
had  asked  Father  if  he  might  be  introduced,  and  Di  had 
liked  him  so  much  that  she  found  a  dance  to  give  him,  al 
though  everything  was  engaged  by  the  time  he  arrived; 
how  an  American  girl  who  knew  him  at  home  said  that  he 
had  a  rich  aunt  who  might  leave  him  "a  whole  heap  of 
money"  some  day  (the  aunt  of  the  lace,  I  said  to  myself); 
and  how  Father  had  consented  to  take  Diana  and  me  to 
Hendon,  to  see  Captain  March's  monoplane  in  its  hangar. 

"  I  managed  that  for  you,  dear,  to  make  up  for  your  dis 
appointment  last  night,  and  because  you're  really  a  good, 
useful  little  flap  of  a  flapper,"  Di  finished.  "Once  we're  at 
Hendon,  I'm  sure  Father  can  be  coaxed  to  let  us  go  up  for 
just  a  short  flight,  though  he  thinks  now  that  nothing  could 
induce  him  to.  Captain  March  has  promised  that  I  shall 
be  his  first  woman  passenger.  Never  has  he  taken  a 
woman  with  him  yet." 

I  only  gasped  inaudibly,  and  bit  a  little  piece  off  my 
heart.  Of  course  I  guessed  then  what  must  have  hap 
pened;  and  when  Eagle  came  that  afternoon,  I  knew.  I 
was  for  him  a  nice  child  still — a  "good,  useful  little  flapper," 
as  Di  said,  and  he  was  my  friend  as  before;  but  Diana  had 
lit  up  the  world  for  him.  He  could  hardly  take  his  eyes  off 
her.  When  she  spoke,  even  at  a  distance,  he  heard  every 
word,  and  nothing  that  any  one  else  said. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  your  sister  was  such  a  wonder 
ful  beauty?  "  he  mumbled  as  he  was  saying  good-bye. 

Old  people,  and  even  middle-aged  people  over  twenty- 
five,  must  have  forgotten  how  it  can  hurt  when  you  are  six- 


SECRET  HISTORY  39 

teen  to  be  in  love  with  some  one  who  loves  somebody  else; 
for  neither  in  books  nor  in  real  life  do  these  worn-out 
persons  ever  take  such  a  thing  seriously.  But  I  shall  never 
cease  to  remember  how  it  feels :  like  having  to  keep  smiling 
while  a  bullet  is  probed  for  in  your  heart,  not  probed  for 
only  once,  and  finished  for  good,  but  prodded  and  poked 
at  every  minute  of  every  hour,  day  after  day,  week  after 
week,  month  after  month.  How  can  you  tell  whether  or 
no  it's  going  to  be  year  after  year  as  well,  till  all  the  red 
blood  of  your  youth  and  hope  has  slowly  been  drained 
away? 


CHAPTER  IV 

NEITHER  Diana  nor  I  had  ever  been  at  Hendon. 
Captain  March  sent  a  motor  car  for  us,  and  I 
saw  Father  and  Di  were  both  impressed  by  this. 
They  thought  he  must  have  money  (as  all  proper  Americans 
have,  according  to  their  idea)  apart  from  his  future  expecta 
tions.  What  /  thought  was,  that  having  fallen  in  love  with 
Di,  nothing  but  a  motor  car  could  be  good  enough  for  a 
goddess,  and — hang  the  expense! 

Di,  who  was  invited  sometimes  for  a  spin  in  friends'  auto 
mobiles,  had  a  fetching  motor  get-up  which,  eked  out  with 
one  of  those  horrific  headpieces  flying  people  wear,  could 
be  used  for  a  short  flight.  I  had  nothing  of  the  sort,  but  Di 
offered  to  lend  me  her  lined  coat.  After  all,  she  owed  the 
expedition  and  the  airman  to  me. 

It  was  a  hired  car,  but,  in  Father's  opinion,  a  dashed 
decent  one.  It  flashed  us  out  past  the  Marble  Arch, 
straight  along  the  Edgware  Road,  to  the  Flying  Ground, 
which,  even  two  years  ago,  was  the  favourite  resort  of 
fashion,  especially  female  fashion.  I  had  often  wondered 
what  it  might  be  like  out  there,  and  was  rather  disappointed 
to  see  only  some  large  flat  fields  close  to  the  highroad,  with 
a  long  line  of  low,  uninteresting  sheds  ranged  side  by  side. 
It  did  seem  as  if  airmen,  who  must  be  brimming  like  full 
cups  with  wine  of  romance  and  imagination,  ought  to  have 
invented  sightlier  houses  for  their  beloved  machines.  But 

40 


SECRET  HISTORY  41 

the  very  thought  that  the  ugly  huts  were  hangars  gave  a 
thrill.  Captain  March  was  to  meet  us  at  Hendon,  but  we 
didn't  see  him  at  first.  As  we  arrived,  an  aeroplane  went 
up,  and  a  monoplane  was  circling  the  enclosure,  giving 
sudden  dips  at  fearfully  steep  angles  as  it  took  the  turns, 
righting  itself  like  a  lazy,  long-tailed  eagle  with  far-spread 
wings  as  it  came  again  into  the  straight.  Captain  March's 
hired  chauffeur,  who  had  been  told  exactly  what  to  do,  ran 
the  car  up  a  short  road  on  the  right,  and  stopped. 

"That's  the  captain's  hangar,  my  lord,"  said  he  to 
Father,  pointing  to  a  shed  near  which  we  had  halted;  and 
his  arm  hadn't  time  to  drop  before  the  man-made  bird, 
which  had  been  circling  round,  planed  down  and  glided 
in  at  the  wide-open  door  like  a  homing  pigeon  into  a 
pigeon  house. 

It  was  beautifully  managed,  and  so  dramatic  that  it  was 
like  the  climax  of  an  act  on  the  stage.  Perhaps  Captain 
March  had  been  performing  some  feat  before  we  came; 
anyhow,  as  he  brought  his  monoplane  to  rest  a  lot  of  peo 
ple  standing  about  applauded  him.  In  a  minute  he  came 
almost  running  out  of  the  shed  straight  toward  us,  in 
his  leather  clothes  and  leather  helmet,  with  goggles  pushed 
up  to  the  top  of  his  head.  Instead  of  being  proud  of  what 
he  had  done,  whatever  it  was,  he  apologized  abjectly  for 
"being  late,"  and  I  could  see  that  Di  was  vain  of  her  con 
quest.  Lots  of  women  were  there,  staring  enviously  at 
the  pretty  girl  who  knew  a  real,  live  airman — evidently, 
too,  one  of  the  popular  ones;  and  Di  loves  to  be  envied. 
I'm  afraid  we  all  do,  in  the  secret  places  of  our  hearts 
which  we  don't  like  to  peer  into,  under  the  dust. 

One  thing  about  Di,  which  makes  men  adore  her,  is  that 


42  SECRET  HISTORY 

she  contrives  to  seem  exquisitely  sympathetic  and  en 
thusiastic  without  ever  gushing.  It's  partly  the  shape  of 
her  eyes  and  the  shortness  of  her  upper  lip,  which  combine 
together  to  give  a  lovely,  rapt,  brooding  expression,  that 
saves  her  the  trouble  of  thinking  up  adjectives.  With 
this  look  on,  she  appeals  to  all  the  love  of  romance  and  ad 
venture  in  their  hearts,  I'm  sure.  They  would  do  any 
thing  to  win  it  for  themselves.  I  would  myself  if  I  were 
a  man,  and  didn't  know  her;  so  when  Captain  March  took 
us  into  his  hangar,  and  she  turned  on  the  look,  I  didn't 
blame  him  for  forgetting  the  very  existence  of  his  small 
pal.  It  only  made  me  sad. 

"I  thought  I'd  better  take  the  Golden  Eagle  up  for  a 
short  run,  and  test  her  before  you  came,  to  see  that  she 
was  all  right,"  he  was  still  apologizing.  "Then  she  be 
haved  so  well,  I  got  going,  and  stayed  up  longer  than  I 
meant.  But  I  saw  the  car  stop,  so  I  hurried  down." 

"I  should  think  you  did  'hurry  down! ' "  laughed  Diana. 
"The  way  you  aimed  at  your  hangar  from  far  up  in  the 
sky,  and  shot  in,  was  like  a  marksman  aiming  at  the  bull's- 
eye  on  a  target,  and  getting  it.  What  do  you  call '  testing ' 
your  monoplane?  WThat  had  you  been  doing  to  make  all 
those  people  applaud?" 

"Oh,  only  a  little  upside-down  flying,"  said  Captain 
March,  as  he  might  have  said  "only  a  little  breathing 
exercise."  "You  see,  I  make  stability  tests.  That's 
what  I'm  for.  And  with  my  appliances,  being  upside 
down's  no  more  to  me  than  it  is  to  a  fly  when  he  walks 
on  the  ceiling." 

Di's  eyes  said,  "You  hero!  you  splendid,  modest 
hero!" — said  it  so  plainly  that  the  hero  faintly  blushed, 


SECRET  HISTORY  43 

though  it  was  hard  to  trace  a  blush  on  his  face,  burnt  red- 
brown  by  sun  and  wind.  My  eyes  said  nothing  at  all,  but 
if  they  had  recited  a  whole  page  of  Shakespeare's  sonnets 
he  would  have  been  none  the  wiser. 

He  led  us  into  the  hangar,  where  two  fascinatingly 
smudged  mechanics  were  in  attendance  on  the  magic 
bird;  and  he  remembered  to  be  nice  and  respectful  to 
Father.  Explanations  of  the  mechanism  were  ostensibly 
addressed  to  our  parent,  but  in  reality  all  the  eloquence  was 
for  Di,  whose  eyes  poured  forth  appreciative  intelligence 
as  stars  pour  forth  rays.  Captain  March  couldn't  be  ex 
pected  to  know,  poor  fellow,  that  Di,  if  obliged  to  choose 
between  two  deadly  dull  evils,  would  rather  hear  a  cook 
tell  how  to  boil  potatoes  than  listen  to  any  mechanical 
talk.  However,  it  wasn't  really  needful  to  listen,  if  one's 
eyes  were  well  trained;  and  Di  was  having  the  "time  of 
her  life"  in  meeting  an  airman. 

Even  I  could  see  that  this  monoplane,  fitted  with  Cap 
tain  March's  inventions,  was  a  different  looking  creature 
from  the  other  bird  machines  which  were  shooting  up  into 
the  air,  or  darting  back  into  their  dens,  all  around  us. 
The  Golden  Eagle's  quiet,  graceful  wings,  instead  of  being 
in  a  straight  line  with  each  other,  were  set  at  an  obtuse 
angle  one  from  another;  and  on  the  end  of  each  were  odd 
little  extra  triangular  tips,  hinged  to  the  main  wings.  I 
longed  to  pour  out  questions,  for  the  "why"  of  things,  es 
pecially  mechanical  things,  has  interested  me  ever  since 
I  was  old  enough  to  pick  a  doll  to  pieces,  to  see  what  made 
its  eyes  open  and  shut.  But  Di  was  asking  idiotic  questions 
in  the  sweetest  way,  and  Captain  March  was  laughing  and 
delighted.  It  pleased  him  a  great  deal  more  that  she 


44  SECRET  HISTORY 

should  want  to  know  precisely  why  he  had  named  his  mono 
plane  the  Golden  Eagle  than  if  Father  or  I  had  catechized 
him  with  the  trained  intelligence  of  a  scientist. 

"I've  been  unoriginal  enough,  I'm  afraid,  to  name  my 
big  baby  after  myself,"  he  said, "  my  nickname  being  Eagle. 
The  golden  eagle,  you  know,  is  our  national  bird." 

"  So  her  hangar  is  '  The  Eagle's  Nest,' "  said  Di.  "  That's 
awfully  nice.  But  why  not  name  her  instead  the  Winged 
Victory?" 

"Wouldn't  it  be  rather  conceited?" 

"Not  after  what  she's  already  done,  and  shown  that  she 
can  do.  It's  conceited  of  me  to  suggest  it,  though,  for— 
for  the  Winged  Victory  is  a  sort  of  a  nickname  of  mine 
since  a  fancy  dress  ball  at  the  beginning  of  the  season." 

"It  suits  you  exactly,"  said  Captain  March.  "If  Lord 
Ballyconal  will  let  you  be  my  first  lady  passenger,  and  if, 
after  she's  given  you  a  run,  you  think  her  worthy,  she  shall 
be  renamed  the  Winged  Victory,  provided  you'll  baptize 
her." 

"Oh,  Bally,  dear,  you  will  let  me  go,  won't  you?"  Di 
pleaded,  using  her  pet  name  for  Father,  which  he  likes 
because  it  sounds  young  and  unparental.  Then  catching 
a  bleak  gleam  in  my  eyes,  she  hastily  added:  "And  after 
ward  Peggy,  if  Captain  March  will  take  her  up." 

Father  hesitated,  but  the  newspapers  and  people  at  the 
Embassy  ball  who  knew  all  about  Eagle  March  had  spoken 
so  highly  of  the  machine,  that  it  seemed  an  insult  to  a  fa 
mous  airman's  skill  to  refuse.  The  two  mechanics  wheeled 
the  monoplane  out  of  the  shed,  and  Captain  March  ex 
plained  how  easy  and  safe  he  could  make  things  for  a  pas 
senger.  Lots  of  men  had  been  up  with  him,  but  he  had 


SECRET  HISTORY  45 

never  asked  a  woman.  "  Only  a  short  flight,  I'll  take  her," 
he  almost  pleaded.  "I  can  give  her  a  helmet.  Perhaps 
you'd  rather  go  first  yourself,  though,  and  see  what  it's 
like." 

Father  may  not  have  had  a  particularly  good  time  on 
earth,  but  anyhow,  he  preferred  it  to  atmospheric  effects. 
He  said  that  he  had  no  head  for  heights,  but  if  Di  and 
Peggy  wanted  to  go,  and  Captain  March  was  kind  enough 
to  take  them — er — up,  a  tiny  way  into  the — er — air,  he 
supposed  that  in  these  days  he  ought  not  to  offer  any  ob 
jections. 

Captain  March  had  the  spare  helmet  ready  (it  looked 
so  new  and  smart,  I  felt  sure  he  had  bought  it  for  the  oc 
casion),  and  nothing  stood  between  Diana  the  Huntress 
and  her  quarry — nothing  except  her  own  changing  mood. 
I  think  it  was  the  look  of  the  helmet  which  gave  her  that 
sinking  feeling  of  irrevocability  which  seems  to  sever  you, 
as  with  a  sword,  from  all  the  dear  little  safe  things  that 
have  made  up  your  life  in  the  past.  She  glanced  from 
the  helmet  which  the  airman  held  toward  her  to  the 
monoplane  spread-eagling  on  the  ground.  I  saw  her 
big  eyes  dilate  as  they  fixed  themselves  anxiously  on 
the  passenger's  perch,  to  which  the  honoured  guest  must 
climb,  above  the  conductor's  seat,  crawling  through  the 
wire  stays,  or  whatever  you  call  them,  which  were  like  a 
spider's  web  inviting  a  fly.  Diana  turned  pale.  Even 
her  lips  were  white.  The  shadows  under  her  eyes  darkened 
as  if  she  were  ill. 

"You're — you're  sure  it's  safe?"  she  faltered. 

"Safe  as  a  house.  Safer  than  a  jerry-built  house," 
Captain  March  assured  her  cheeringly .  "  Look  at  these ! " 


46  SECRET  HISTORY 

and  he  pointed  out  again  all  the  features  of  his  invention 
that  made  the  automatic  stability  of  the  machine.  "  But 
if  you " 

"Oh!  I'm  not  afraid,"  quavered  Di,  her  eyes  roving  in 
an  agonized  way  over  the  crowd  collecting  to  see  the  lovely 
girl  taken  up  into  the  sky  by  the  brave  airman.  "It  isn't 
"hat.  Only — it  won't  make  me  seasick,  will  it?  " 

"I've  never  had  a  passenger  seasick,"  said  Eagle. 

"And — you  won't  turn  upside  down,  will  you?" 

"Of  course  not!" 

"Well,  then,  I— I'll  go." 

On  with  the  condemned  cap! — I  mean  the  leather  hel 
met.  Diana's  paling  beauty  was  blotted  out.  Wrapped 
in  her  fur-lined  cloak,  she  was  trembling  all  over.  Her 
hands,  which  she  held  confidingly  out  for  the  thick  mit 
tens  Captain  March  had  got  for  her,  shook  like  the  last 
leaves  on  a  frozen  tree. 

"Think  you're  fit  for  it,  Di?"     Father  asked  anxiously. 

"Yes,  indeed!"  came  hissing  through  the  helmet.  But 
I  felt  it  was  only  the  tonic  of  other  women's  envy  which 
was  keeping  her  up.  I  was  envying  her,  too. 

Captain  March  helped  Di  scramble  into  her  perch.  His 
hand  was  steady  and  strong.  All  his  life  and  skill  and  man 
hood  were  for  her.  She  was  tenderly  yet  firmly  strapped 
into  place,  and  told  how  she  was  to  hold  on,  and  not  to  be 
afraid.  There  would  be  some  noise,  but  she  mustn't  mind; 
and  there  was  the  little  apparatus  Captain  March  had  in 
vented,  by  which  a  passenger  could  communicate  with  the 
conductor.  It  was  something  like  the  bulb  you  squeeze  in 
a  motor  car  when  you  want  the  chauffeur  to  turn  right  or 
left  or  stop. 


SECRET  HISTORY  47 

"Press  once  if  you're  sick  of  it,  and  want  to  come  down," 
said  Eagle.  "Twice  if  you  want  to  go  higher.  There's  a 
whistle  close  to  my  ear,  so  sharp  it  cuts  through  the  motor 
noise." 

My  heart  beat  almost  as  fast  as  if  I  were  in  the  mono 
plane  myself  when  Eagle  was  ready  to  start,  looking  like  a 
twentieth-century,  leather-masked  Apollo  starting  out 
to  drive  his  sun  chariot  up  to  the  zenith  and  down  the 
other  side.  The  motor  purred,  and  the  propeller  began  to 
revolve.  Diana,  tense  as  a  stretched  violin  string,  was 
hanging  on  already,  like  grim  death.  The  two  mechanics 
held  the  tail  of  the  impatient  giant  bird,  and  when  Eagle 
raised  one  hand,  they  let  go.  For  perhaps  fifty  yards  the 
Golden  Eagle  ran  lightly  over  the  turf  on  her  bicycle  wheels; 
then  her  master  tilted  the  planes,  and  his  namesake  soared 
upward  from  the  ground  into  the  air. 

As  she  went,  through  the  noise  she  made  I  heard  a 
shriek  from  the  passenger.  Diana's  pride,  which  denied 
cowardice  in  the  joy  of  being  envied,  was  forgotten  in  the 
primitive  emotion  of  fear.  What  my  sister  did  I  could 
not  see,  as  the  monoplane  mounted  so  quickly;  but  al 
most  at  once  I  realized  that  she  must  have  signalled  her 
wish  to  descend,  for  the  Eagle  ceased  to  soar,  dropped, 
and  began  gently  gliding  down.  A  moment  later  the 
great  winged  form  was  landing  once  more  close  to  its  own 
shed. 

Father  rushed  to  the  rescue  of  his  darling,  and  Captain 
March — out  of  his  seat  in  a  second — was  unfastening  the 
straps  and  anxiously  extricating  Diana  from  the  passen 
ger's  perch.  I  couldn't  help  feeling  ashamed  before  all 
the  people — scornful  or  sympathetic,  who  were  looking 


48  SECRET  HISTORY 

on — that  my  sister  had  shown  herself  a  coward;  but  I  was 
sorry  for  her,  too.  She  had  quite  collapsed,  and  lay  in 
Father's  arms  as  Captain  March  unfastened  her  helmet. 
I  wasn't  mean  enough  to  think  of  rejoicing  because,  in 
taking  my  place  away,  she  had  been  tried  and  found  want 
ing.  Instead,  I  found  myself  really  afraid  that  Captain 
March  might  despise  the  poor  girl  for  the  timidity  which 
humiliated  him  as  well  as  her.  But  I  need  not  have  worried. 
Pulling  off  the  helmet  in  that  clumsy  way  a  man  has  with 
any  sort  of  headgear,  the  wheel  of  braided  hair  Diana 
wore,  wound  over  each  ear  in  the  Eastern  fashion  that 
came  from  "Kismet,"  was  loosened,  and  a  thick  plait 
with  an  engaging  wave  at  the  end  fell  down  on  either  side 
of 'her  face.  Standing,  but  supported  in  Father's  arms,  her 
head  lay  on  his  shoulder,  her  eyes  closed,  long  curling 
lashes  resting  on  marble  cheeks.  I  had  never  seen  her 
half  so  beautiful,  and  Captain  March  gazed  at  her  as  if  he 
Would  gladly  give  his  life  for  a  reassuring  smile. 

"  Shall  I  fetch  a  doctor?  "  he  asked  miserably.  " There's 
sure  to  be  one,  somewhere  around." 

Before  Father  could  answer,  Di  opened  her  eyes,  and 
Captain  March  got  the  smile  without  paying  the  price. 

S<I — I'm  all  right,"  she  breathed.  "So  sorry!  I  wasn't 
afraid,  you  know.  It  was  my  heart.  It  seemed  to  stop." 

"Of  course  you  weren't  afraid,"  Eagle  encouraged  her. 
"I  can  never  forgive  myself  for  making  you  suffer." 

Diana's  smile  graciously  forgave  the  brutal  fellow  for  his 
blundering,  and  she  extricated  herself  from  Father's  arms, 
the  colour  slowly  stealing  back  to  her  lips  and  cheeks.  She 
shook  her  head  a  little,  and  the  two  braids,  stuck  full  of 
tiny  tortoise-shell  hairpins,  tumbled  over  her  breast. 


SECRET  HISTORY  49 

Captain  March  nearly  ate  her  up  with  his  eyes,  and  then, 
through  their  windows,  his  soul  might  be  seen  worshipping, 
and  begging  the  goddess's  pardon  on  its  knees. 

"She's  not  strong,"  Father  apologized.  "It's  my  fault 
for  letting  her  go  up;  I  ought  to  have  remembered  her 
heart." 

It's  a  great  asset,  a  weak  heart,  for  a  person  who  has  just 
made  an  exhibition  of  cowardice.  Like  charity,  it  covers  a 
multitude  of  sins.  I'd  never  before  heard  of  Di's  heart 
being  weak;  and  at  home,  if  there  were  a  ball  anywhere 
within  twenty  miles,  she  could  always  dance  at  •  it  till 
morning.  However,  I  was  glad  she'd  thought  of  her  heart 
in  time,  and  saved  the  situation.  It  was  an  accommodating 
heart,  for  it  came  up  smiling,  when  the  petting  Di  got  had 
satisfied  her  that  she  wasn't  to  be  blamed  for  the  fiasco. 

"I  think  flying  must  be  a  wonderful  experience  for  any 
one  whose  heart  is  quite  right,"  she  consoled  Captain 
March.  "It's  a  pity,  for  the  credit  of  the  family,  you 
didn't  take  Peggy  up  first." 

"I  suppose  she  won't  feel  like  going,  after  what  has 
happened  to  you?"  said  he,  remembering  my  existence. 

"Oh,  I  do  feel  like  it,  more  than  ever,"  I  exclaimed, 
"that  is,  if  you  don't  mind  risking  another  of  us." 

"I  don't  think  we'd  better  trouble  Captain  March 
again,"  Father  cut  in.  " He  wouldn't  like  a  second  failure." 

"He  won't  have  one,"  I  said.  "  My  heart  is  as  strong  as 
a  Gnome  motor.  Do  let  me  go.  It  will  give  Di  time  to 
rest." 

Whether  that  argument  decided  Father,  or  whether  he 
really  did  hope  I  might  reestablish  the  family  credit  for 
courage,  I  don't  know;  anyway,  he  made  no  further  objec- 


50  SECRET  HISTORY 

tions.  The  fur-lined  cloak,  helmet,  and  mittens  were 
handed  over  to  me.  I  crawled  through  the  spider's  web  to 
the  tiny  throne  vacated  by  its  late  queen,  and  was  strapped 
in  as  Di  had  been.  Not  one  qualm  did  I  feel  as  I  looked 
down  over  Eagle's  leather-clad  shoulder  at  the  various 
instruments  fixed  on  to  what  in  an  aeroplane  corresponds,  I 
suppose,  to  the  dashboard  of  an  earth-bound  automobile: 
the  revolution  gauge,  which  Eagle  had  explained  to  us;  the 
watch;  the  map  to  roll  up  on  a  frame,  like  a  blind;  the  com 
pass,  the  height  indicator.  I  felt  secure  and  happy  in  the 
thought  that  my  courage  would  at  least  make  my  captain 
respect  me.  He  had  shown  us  how  his  invention  enabled 
the  monoplane  to  balance  itself  in  meeting  every  gust  of 
wind,  or  falling  into  an  "air  pocket,"  without  any  effort 
from  the  conductor.  That  assurance  hadn't  been  enough 
for  Di,  Winged  Victory,  Goddess,  and  Huntress,  but  it  was 
enough  for  humble  Peggy.  Besides,  in  the  mood  which 
had  swept  over  me  like  a  blinding  flame  of  white  fire,  I 
didn't  care  what  happened,  provided  it  happened  to  Eagle 
March  and  me  together.  I  should  have  liked  him  to  aim 
straight  for  the  sun,  and  never  to  come  down  again. 

The  last  thing  I  said  before  we  started  was,  "Go  as  high, 
please,  as  you  would  if  you  were  alone.  If  I  press  the  bulb, 
it  will  be  twice,  to  fly  higher." 

Then  came  the  starting  of  the  motor,  the  wheeled  run, 
and  the  leap  into  air.  As  we  took  wing,  I  could  have  sung 
for  joy.  I  was  so  gloriously  excited,  I  was  hardly  conscious 
of  the  noise  of  the  engine.  That  helmeted  head  and  the 
firm  leather-clad  shoulders  beneath  me  seemed  the  head 
and  shoulders  of  a  god. 

We  circled  over  the  enclosure.     The  Golden  Eagle  hadn't 


SECRET  HISTORY  51 

risen  very  high  yet,  but  I  had  a  queer  feeling  of  being  no 
longer  related  to  any  one  on  earth.  I  was  with  my  cham 
pion,  a  creature  of  another  sphere.  Intoxicated  with  joy,  I 
pressed  the  bulb  twice.  I  could  not  hear  the  shrill  whistle, 
but  the  driver  evidently  heard,  for  in  obedience  we  shot  up 
— up — up!  The  height  indicator  showed  that  we  had 
reached  the  height  of  five  hundred  feet.  I  pressed  the  bulb 
again  twice  over.  Eagle  began  to  steer  the  monoplane  in 
immense  circles.  I  felt  I  could  almost  see  our  corkscrew- 
track  in  the  air,  like  twisted  threads  of  gold  on  blue.  The 
hangars  in  the  fields  of  Hendon  were  toy  sheds  on  a  green- 
painted  tray.  Even  the  aerodrome  was  no  more  than  a 
big  rat  trap.  London  spread  itself  out  beneath  us,  a  vast 
dark  patch,  like  a  fallen  cloud.  A  shaft  of  sunlight  set  a 
golden  dome  on  fire.  It  must  have  been  St.  Paul's.  For 
the  third  time  I  gave  the  signal  to  mount.  For  the  third 
time  Eagle  obeyed.  I  wondered  if  he  liked  me  a  little  for 
sharing  the  confidence  he  had  in  his  machine. 

A  few  white  clouds  floated  lazily  beneath  us,  like  snowy 
birds  of  an  intolerable  brightness  and  titanic  size.  Then 
they  joined  together  in  a  glittering  flock,  and  lost  the  sem 
blance  of  birds.  The  mass  became  a  sparkling  silver  sea,  with 
here  and  there  a  dark  gulf  in  it  like  a  whirlpool.  The  air 
grew  biting  cold.  I  felt  it  press  on  me  through  the  fur- 
lined  coat  Di  had  lent,  like  blocks  of  solid  ice.  But  the 
strange  sensation  only  exhilarated  me  the  more.  "I'm  not 
a  coward,  I'm  not  a  coward.  I'm  brave!"  The  words 
sang  themselves  in  my  head  to  the  accompanying  roar  of 
the  motor. 

It  was  a  glorious,  dependable  roar,  but  suddenly,  in  the 
midst  of  a  spiral  movement,  I  noticed  a  change  in  the 


52  SECRET  HISTORY 

sound.  A  gurgle — a  choking  stammer.  A  spray  of  petrol 
dashed  across  my  goggles. 

"Now — what?"  The  question  asked  itself  in  my  soul. 
But  there  was  no  fear  with  it,  only  an  awed  realization  that 
this  might  be  the  end  of  things,  as  I  had  known  them,  in  a 
very  little  world  low  down  and  far  away.  "What  does  it 
matter?"  the  answer  came.  But  Eagle  had  turned  round 
in  his  seat,  and  was  handing  me  a  spanner.  Now  he  was 
motioning  to  me.  If  he  spoke,  I  couldn't  hear  a  word.  Yet 
I  understood  from  the  gestures  of  one  mittened  hand  what 
he  hoped  I  might  be  able  to  do.  Somehow,  even  then,  the 
driving  force  of  thought  in  my  brain  was  to  please  him,  to 
show  him  that  he  hadn't  relied  on  me  in  vain,  rather  than 
to  save  us  both  from  threatening  danger,  though  danger  I 
saw  there  must  be.  I  was  determined  that  the  corporal 
should  not  fail  the  captain. 

The  thing  I  had  to  do,  as  I  seized  the  situation,  was  to 
turn  the  spanner  on  a  loosened  nut  in  the  petrol  pipe,  to 
which  Eagle  pointed.  Reaching  up  with  my  right  hand,  I 
steadied  myself  with  the  left,  and  touched  something  hot, 
horribly  hot.  There  was  an  involuntary  flinch  of  the 
nerves  as  the  heat  burned  through  the  thick  mittens  I  wore 
and  scorched  my  fingers,  but  I  didn't  scream,  I'm  glad  to 
say,  or  let  go  the  spanner.  I  screwed  and  screwed  at  the 
union,  with  the  nasty  smell  of  burnt  wool,  and  perhaps 
flesh,  in  my  nostrils.  Then  there  came  the  glorious  sen 
sation  of  success  as  the  song  of  the  motor  took  up  its  old 
refrain  again.  No  more  choking  and  spluttering,  and  it 
was  I  who  had  cured  it. 

I  gave  a  little  sob  of  thanksgiving,  because  I  hadn't 
failed;  and  a  voice  seemed  to  whisper  far,  far  down  under 


SECRET  HISTORY  53 

the  renewed  song  of  the  engine,  "What  if  this  is  a  prophecy? 
What  if,  after  Diana  has  left  him  in  the  lurch,  it  should  be 
given  to  you  to  atone — to  help  or  save  him  in  some 
danger? " 

The  little  voice  was  so  strong,  so  clear,  that  I  thrilled  all 
over.  What  it  said  seemed  to  become  part  of  an  ex 
perience  which  I  could  never  forget. 


CHAPTER  V 

IN  THE  remaining  six  weeks  of  his  leave,  Eagle  March 
made  himself  very  popular  in  England.  He  secured  a 
record  for  altitude,  and  flew  upside  down  longer  than 
any  one  else  had  at  that  time,  two  years  ago,  which  is  a 
whole  age  in  the  aeroplane  world.  He  did  other  quaint 
tricks,  too,  that  nobody  had  thought  of  or  accomplished 
then,  such  as  walking  on  a  wing  of  the  monoplane  when  she 
was  in  the  air;  and  all  the  prettiest  and  smartest  women  in 
London  were  proud  to  meet  him.  He  was  invited  every 
where,  and  people  who  pretended  to  know  said  that  peer 
esses,  married  and  unmarried,  made  violent  love  to 
Captain  March.  Naturally  a  girl  like  Di  was  enchanted 
to  lead  him  about,  tied  to  what  would  have  been  her  apron 
strings  if  she'd  been  frumpish  enough  to  wear  such  things. 
When  it  began  to  be  said  that  Eagle  March  found  excuses 
not  to  accept  invitations  unless  Lord  Ballyconal  and  Lady 
Di  O'Malley  might  be  expected  to  turn  up,  Father  and 
Diana  were  asked  by  a  great  many  hostesses  who  wouldn't 
have  thought  of  them  except  as  bait.  Di  realized  this, 
even  if  Father  were  too  proud  or  too  conceited  to  do  so,  and 
she  used  Eagle  in  every  way,  for  all  he  was  worth.  She 
liked  him,  too,  better  than  she'd  ever  liked  any  man, 
perhaps,  except  her  first  love — the  handsomest  Irish  boy 
you  ever  saw,  whom  she  couldn't  think  of  marrying  because 
he'd  no  family  and  no  money.  But  she  was  only  seventeen 

54 


SECRET  HISTORY  55 

then  and  Jerry  Taylor  was  a  mere  subaltern.  He  died  in 
India  of  enteric  when  Di  was  eighteen;  and  before  Captain 
March  came  on  the  scene  she  had  liked  and  flirted  with  at 
least  a  dozen  others. 

Besides,  Eagle  March  was  a  very  different  "proposi 
tion,"  as  they  say  in  his  country,  from  poor  Jerry  Taylor. 
There  was  no  reason  why  she  shouldn't  think  of  marrying 
him  if  he  wanted  her,  and  he  did  want  her  desperately. 
A  moderately  intelligent  bat  could  have  seen  that  he  was 
dying  for  my  lovely  sister.  Anyhow,  she  saw  it,  and  I  saw 
that  she  saw  it,  and  that  she  was  troubled  as  to  which  way 
to  make  up  her  mind.  She  didn't  want  to  lose  her  golden 
eagle,  with  his  brilliant  plumage  of  fame  and  popularity, 
and  the  future  fortune  from  his  aunt.  On  the  other  hand, 
through  Eagle,  Di  had  met  a  number  of  desirable  men,  some 
moneyed,  some  titled;  and  she  was  a  girl  who  would  rather 
marry  a  rich  nobody  of  the  country  she  had  known,  than  fly 
with  a  hero  to  a  land  she  knew  not.  I  used  to  notice  in  her 
soft,  thoughtful  eyes  the  "wait  and  see"  policy. 

As  the  time  drew  near  for  Eagle  to  go  back  to  his  regi 
ment  on  the  other  side  of  the  world,  things  grew  exciting.  I 
felt  electricity  in  the  atmosphere,  though  Diana  didn't 
confide  in  me,  and  I  had  no  idea  what  she  meant  to  do.  I 
couldn't  bear  to  think  of  Eagle  having  to  suffer,  as  he  must 
suffer  if  she  threw  him  over,  for  already  I  knew  enough  of 
him  to  know  that,  quiet  as  he  was,  he  had  very  deep  and 
sensitive  feelings.  I  am  too  young,  even  now,  after  all  I 
have  lived  through  in  the  last  year  or  two,  to  set  myself  up 
as  a  judge  of  character;  yet  I  couldn't  then  help  forming 
my  own  opinion  of  all  those  who  came  near  me.  I  seemed 
to  see  under  Eagle  March's  simple,  half -humorous,  calmly 


56  SECRET  HISTORY 

deliberate  manner,  flashes  of  inner  fire.  I  thought  his 
character  was  not  really  simple  at  all,  but  very  complex.  I 
don't  mean  in  a  deceitful  way,  far  indeed  from  that;  but  I 
believed  there  was  much  in  him  which  he  did  not  yet  know 
himself,  about  himself.  I  fancied  that  the  Southern  blood 
he  had  in  his  veins  from  one  side  of  his  family  had  made 
him  high-strung  and  passionate,  as  well  as  daring,  quick  to 
think,  and  quick  to  act;  and  that  his  study  was  to  hold  this 
side  of  his  nature  in  check.  I  felt  sure  that  he  was  generous 
even  to  a  fault,  yet  I  was  certain  that,  if  driven  to  despera 
tion,  there  might  be  a  cruel  streak  which  would  make  him  a 
dangerous  enemy  unless  some  tide  of  love  broke  down  the 
barrier  of  hardness  in  his  soul.  He  was  not  hard  at  that 
time,  however,  and  I  didn't  want  my  sister  to  be  the  one  to 
make  him  so. 

For  this  reason,  I  sometimes  wished  that  she  would  marry 
him,  and  give  him  as  much  happiness  as  she  had  it  in  her  to 
give.  And  yet,  apart  from  my  own  feelings  (they  didn't 
count,  for  his  losing  Di  would  not  give  him  to  me),  I  couldn't 
believe  that  having  her  would  really  be  for  his  happiness  in 
the  end.  The  two  hadn't  one  idea  or  taste  in  common. 
But  all  I  could  do  was  to  hope  that,  whatever  happened,  it 
would  be  for  his  best;  because,  you  see,  knowing  him,  and 
having  that  chevron  of  black  and  gold  as  a  "reward  of 
valour,"  had  made  me  a  nicer,  less  selfish  girl  than  I  had 
been  before  we  met.  Because  I  loved  a  soldier,  I  wanted 
to  be  a  soldier,  too !  Hardly  anything  of  the  pert  minx  re 
mained  in  me,  I  used  to  think  sometimes,  and  compara 
tively  little  of  the  pig  or  cat.  This  was  fortunate,  because, 
when  toward  the  last  he  confided  in  me,  everything  bad  that 
was  left  in  my  composition  longed  to  turn  and  rend  Diana. 


SECRET  HISTORY  57 

The  way  he  did  this  made  it  all  the  harder  for  me  not  to 
desert  the  colours.  He  told  me  that  ever  since  the  day 
when  I  had  been  "  such  a  little  trump  in  the  air,  and  may 
be  saved  both  our  lives,"  I'd  been  more  to  him  than  any 
other  female  thing,  except,  of  course,  my  sister.  Some 
thing  in  Diana's  weakness  had  appealed  to  him  as  much 
as  my  strength;  and  he  loved  her  with  a  different  love 
from  the  affection  he  gave  me.  I  was  his  little  sister,  his 
brave  little  friend,  and  because  I  was  so  dear  to  him,  he 
dared  to  ask  me  what  chance  he  had  with  Diana.  Did 
I  think  she  tried  to  keep  him  from  telling  her  what  he  felt, 
because  she  didn't  care  and  wanted  to  save  him  pain,  or 
was  there  just  a  possibility  that  she  was  only  shy? 

I  could  have  given  a  bitter  laugh  to  both  questions,  be 
cause  the  truthful,  straight-out  answer  to  one  and  the 
other  was  the  same:  "No!"  Di  loved  to  get  proposals, 
and  counted  them  up  as  if  they  were  scalps,  or  those  hor 
rid  little  soft,  boneless  masks  which  head  hunters  col 
lect.  The  only  trouble  was,  that  among  the  lot,  she  had 
never  had  one  scalp  worth  the  wearing,  for  a  real  live 
beauty,  who  needed  only  a  bit  of  luck  to  be  at  the  top  of  the 
world.  As  for  her  shyness,  it  was  all  in  the  tricks  she  played 
with  her  eyelashes  and  the  way  she  curved  her  upper  lip. 

But  I  didn't  laugh.  I  merely  said  I  wasn't  sure  how 
Diana  felt,  as  she  never  talked  to  me  about  such  things. 
And  I  got  for  answer,  spoken  reflectively:  "I  suppose 
not.  You're  too  much  of  a  child." 

He  knew  by  this  time  that  I  was  sixteen,  instead  of  thir 
teen  as  he  had  thought  at  first;  but  what  you're  not  much 
interested  in  makes  little  impression  on  your  mind  if 
you're  a  man  and  in  love.  For  him  I  was  a  child,  a  nice 


58  SECRET  HISTORY 

sympathetic  child.  And  such  affection  as  he  gave  me,  I 
lived  upon,  as  if  it  had  been  the  washings  from  a  cup  of  the 
elixir  of  life. 

For  his  sake,  I  studied  Di  more  closely  than  ever,  after 
that  day,  and  soon  I  understood  what  she  was  driving  at. 
She  wanted  to  have  her  cake  and  eat  it,  too.  And  she  got 
it.  Any  girl  can  manage  this,  if  she  is  clever  enough;  and 
Di,  though  she  isn't  bookish  or  intellectual,  is  very,  very 
clever  in  the  way  women  have  been  clever  since  they 
emerged  from  cave  life. 

She  succeeded  in  keeping  back  a  real  proposal  which 
she  would  have  had  to  answer  with  a  "yes"  or  "no";  but 
she  hinted  to  Captain  March  that,  if  she  could  have  just  a 
little  more  time  to  think  about  it,  with  the  glamour  of  his 
presence  gone,  she  would  probably  realize  that  she  couldn't 
be  happy  without  him.  Of  course  it  would  be  a  blow  for 
poor,  dear  Bally  if  she  married  out  of  Ireland  or  England, 
but  still — but  still — only  give  her  time  to  read  her  heart. 

Eagle  told  me  something  of  the  scene  between  them,  and 
of  course,  I  saw  exactly  what  Di  was  up  to :  but  I  caged  all 
the  wild  cats  in  me,  and  said  I  was  glad,  if  he  were  happy. 
Yes,  indeed,  I'd  take  care  of  Di  for  him,  and  write  him  how 
she  looked  and  what  she  did,  and  use  all  my  influence  to 
make  Father  escort  us  both  over  to  America  as  soon  as 
possible.  Di,  it  seemed,  had  also  agreed  to  use  her  in 
fluence  in  bringing  this  result  about.  I  couldn't  tell  at 
the  time  whether  she  had  thrown  the  promise  as  a  sop  to 
keep  Eagle  quiet,  or  whether  she  really  thought  that  she 
would  like  to  go.  All  I  knew  was  that,  if  she  did  use  her 
influence — and  Father  could  get  hold  of  enough  money — 
the  thing  was  as  good  as  done. 


SECRET  HISTORY  59 

Eagle  took  his  departure;  and  we,  and  lots  of  his  new 
friends,  went  to  Euston  to  see  him  off  for  Liverpool,  Di,  no 
doubt,  secretly  thinking  that  sort  of  public  "good-bye" 
safer  than  a  private  one.  As  for  our  going  to  America,  the 
scheme  hung  by  a  thread,  as  I  guessed  soon  after  Eagle's 
back  was  turned.  A  bird  in  the  hand  is  always  worth  at 
least  two  in  the  bush,  and  Di's  hand  was  ready.  If  the 
right  bird  could  be  palmed  before  the  season's  end,  it 
would  mean  that  nothing  of  Di  except  her  wedding  cards 
would  sail  across  the  sea.  But  as  it  turned  out,  home  birds 
were  wary,  and  we  crept  back  to  Ireland  in  time  for  the 
horse  show  with  Diana  empty  handed,  and  Father  with 
pockets  cleaned  out.  It  was  then  that  Di  seriously  set  her 
thoughts  upon  the  new  world — new  worlds,  it  is  said,  being 
easier  to  conquer  than  old  ones. 

Father  had  two  or  three  acquaintances  in  the  diplo 
matic  service  at  Washington.  He  hoped  to  squeeze  in 
vitations  out  of  them;  for  in  a  country  entirely  populated 
by  monotonous  Misters  and  Mrs-es,  with  nothing  more 
decorative  than  a  colonel  or  a  general  or  a  judge,  even 
a  poor  Irish  earl  isn't  to  be  sneezed  at.  Di  needn't  be 
handicapped  by  every  one  remembering  that  her  mother 
would  have  described  herself  as  a  "music  'all  h'artist"; 
and  several  Americans  living  in  New  York  had  asked  us 
to  their  houses. 

At  first  it  wasn't  proposed  to  take  me  if  the  family  went, 
and  the  thought  of  going  through  again  what  I  had  endured 
when  seeing  Di  and  Eagle  March  together,  kept  me  from 
raising  my  voice  in  persuasion.  It  would  be  heartwearing 
to  be  left  behind,  never  to  know  what  was  happening  ex 
cept  from  an  occasional  letter;  but  to  be  on  the  spot  and 


60  SECRET  HISTORY 

see  for  myself  would  be  heartbreaking.  I  wasn't  quite  sure 
which  would  be  worse,  so  I  left  the  decision  to  Fate;  and 
as  I  said  before,  it  was  my  Frenchified  genius  for  doing  hair 
which  settled  the  matter.  Di  discussed  it  with  Father 
frankly  before  me,  and  argued  that  not  only  was  I  cleverer 
than  the  average  maid,  but  actually  cheaper.  "Besides," 
she  finished,  "Peggy  dear  would  like  to  go,  and  she's  not 
a  bad  little  thing.  Who  knows  but  she  might  pick  up 
something  over  there  for  herself?  " 

"A  picker  up  of  unconsidered  trifles!"  the  scotched,  not 
killed  minx  in  me  couldn't  resist  quoting,  at  the  suggestion 
that  I  was  welcome  to  Di's  leavings  if  I  could  bag  them. 
But  neither  Father  nor  Di  was  paying  the  slightest  at 
tention. 

By  superhuman  efforts  in  borrowing,  and  perhaps  beg 
ging  (I  wouldn't  "put  it  past  him"),  and  selling  the  portrait 
of  our  best-looking,  worst-behaved  ancestor,  Father  scraped 
up  enough  money  to  take  us  to  America  and  have  a  little 
over  for  travelling  expenses  there.  Further  than  that  he 
did  not  look,  for  we  should  be  living  board  free  most  of  the 
time;  and  besides,  something  was  almost  sure  to  turn  up. 
In  December  we  sailed  on  a  slow,  cheap  ship;  and  once  on 
the  other  side,  lived  for  six  weeks,  like  the  lord  and  ladies 
we  were,  upon  friends  Di  had  carefully  collected,  as  if  they 
were  rare  foreign  stamps  or  postcards,  in  London  during 
the  past  season.  Most  of  these  she  had  met  through 
Eagle.  She  had  a  gorgeous  time,  and  even  I  came  in  for 
plenty  of  fun;  because  it  seems  that  a  girl  in  America  ceases 
to  "flap"  while  she  is  still  quite  young.  I  was  strictly  re 
duced  by  my  elders  to  "just  sixteen,"  although  my  seven 
teenth  birthday  was  upon  me;  but  there  were  men  in  New 


SECRET  HISTORY  61 

York  not  above  talking  or  tangoing  with  a  girl  of  sixteen, 
and  my  hair,  though  only  looped  up  flapper  fashion,  with 
a  ribbon,  was  actually  admired.  I  saw  it  in  the  news 
papers — not  the  hair,  but  the  admiration. 

Never  were  people  so  hospitable  as  those  kind  ones  in 
New  York,  and  never  were  houses  more  beautiful  or  more 
luxurious  than  theirs.  I  had  never  seen  anything  quite 
like  them  at  home :  but  it  wasn't  the  luxury  that  stirred  in 
my  heart  a  wondering  love  for  America.  I  began  to  feel  it 
from  the  very  moment  when  our  cheap  liner  brought  us 
into  the  harbour,  and  the  Statue  of  Liberty  (about  which 
Eagle  had  told  me)  was  suddenly  unveiled  to  my  eyes  from 
behind  a  curtain  of  silver  mist.  The  thrill  warmed  my 
blood,  and  I  had  the  sensation  of  being  at  home,  as  if  I  were 
coming  to  stay  with  kinsfolk;  a  dim  but  deep  conviction 
that  I  belonged;  that  there  was  a  place  for  me. 

We  were  doing  something  from  morning  till  night — or 
rather  till  the  next  morning;  and  the  air  was  like  a  tonic 
to  keep  us  up  to  the  work  of  play.  Luncheons  and 
dinners  and  dances  were  given  for  Di,  and  she  was  writ 
ten  and  talked  about  as  the  "Beautiful  Lady  Diana 
O'Malley";  but,  though  she  had  proposals,  nothing 
better  offered  than  Captain  March,  whose  rich  aunt, 
Mrs.  Cabot,  lived  in  New  York,  and  proved  to  be  the 
genuine  article.  Consequently,  we  turned  our  attention 
to  Washington.  Washington  also  turned  its  attention  to 
us,  and  made  itself  agreeable  to  Father  and  Diana.  Place 
and  people  were  both  fascinating;  and  we  had  five  weeks 
more  of  dinners  and  dances,  without  the  result  we  all  knew 
in  our  secret  souls  we  had  come  to  get.  The  men  who 
wanted  Di,  she  didn't  want,  and  vice  versa.  So  at  length 


62  SECRET  HISTORY 

we  came  to  the  last  item  marked  on  our  programme:  a 
visit  to  the  fashionable  Alvarado  Springs,  close  to  Fort 
Alvarado,  in  Arizona,  where  Captain  March  was  stationed. 

It  was  the  end  of  March  when  we  arrived  at  Alvarado, 
and  the  newspapers  were  thickly  sprinkled  with  the  name 
of  the  Mexican  President  Huerta,  printed  in  big,  black 
letters.  A  few  weeks  ago  the  name  would  have  meant 
nothing  to  me,  but  I  hadn't  lived  in  vain  in  Washington 
for  more  than  a  month.  If  the  name  of  a  Mexican 
president  or  general  who  had  done  anything  conspicuous 
during  the  past  six  years  had  been  suddenly  flung  at  my 
head  (as  in  the  children's  game  where  they  shout  "Beast, 
Bird,  Fish!"  and  you  answer  before  the  count  of  three), 
I  could  have  told  who  he  was,  and  whether  the  conspicu 
ous  deed  had  been  good  or  bad. 

At  Alvarado  we  had  thought  to  be  past  invitation  zone, 
and  Father  had  been  fearfully  hoarding  his  resources  at 
the  expense  of  his  friends,  to  hold  out  against  high  charges 
at  a  big  hotel.  There  was  said  to  be  a  very  big  one  indeed, 
at  the  Springs,  with  bills  to  match;  but  at  the  eleventh  hour 
one  of  Father's  devoted  band  of  rich  widows  (the  widows 
thoughtfully  provided  for  him  by  deceased  financiers)  .took 
a  furnished  cottage  there  and  asked  us  to  visit  her.  She 
was  an  unusually  nice  widow,  whose  husband  had  made 
a  fortune  through  inventing  gollywogs  with  different  eyes 
from  other  gollywogs.  The  strain  had  given  him  a  weak 
heart,  and  he  had  died.  The  widow's  name  was  Mrs. 
Main,  and  Di  shamelessly  christened  her  the  "Main 
Chance."  She  certainly  was  ours! 

Mrs.  Main,  whom  we'd  met  in  New  York,  dashed  off 
to  Alvarado  Springs  a  fortnight  ahead  of  us,  in  time  to  get 


SECRET  HISTORY  63 

acquainted  through  letters  of  introduction  with  the  highest- 
up  officers  at  Fort  Alvarado,  and  the  wives  of  those  who 
had  any;  also  to  put  the  furnished  "cottage,"  as  she  called 
it  (there  must  have  been  fifteen  or  twenty  rooms),  in  order; 
and  the  night  we  arrived,  after  our  long  but  utterly  fasci 
nating  journey,  she  gave  a  dinner  in  honour  of  Father  and 
Diana. 

I  had  been  tremendously  interested  in  the  whole  trip 
from  Washington  to  Arizona,  and  with  the  first  glimpse  I 
had  of  the  romantic  Springs  I  felt  a  thrilling  sensation 
that  it  was  a  place  where  things  were  bound  to  happen. 
The  hotel,  as  all  who  have  heard  of  Alvarado  must  know, 
stands  in  the  midst  of  a  young  forest,  overlooking  a  canon 
that  for  colour  is  like  a  vast  cup  full  of  rainbows,  and  be 
yond  the  forest  to  the  left  is  the  garrison.  From  the 
higher  stories  of  the  hotel  you  can  see  the  red  roofs  of  the 
officers'  quarters,  and  farther  away  the  barracks  and  the 
big,  bare  drill  ground,  but  from  the  wide  verandas  no 
houses  are  anywhere  visible,  except  the  colony  of  cottages 
built  in  Spanish  fashion  like  the  hotel  itself,  each  having 
its  own  little  garden  with  a  flowery  hedge.  From  the 
glorified  cottage  Mrs.  Main  had  taken  we  could  walk  up 
to  a  dance  at  the  hotel  in  five  minutes. 

I  think  Eagle  would  have  liked  to  meet  us  at  the  railway 
station,  but  Di  had  plenty  of  excuses  for  not  allowing 
that.  He  had  met  Mrs.  Main,  however,  and  in  the  after 
noon  he  called.  Father  was  out  prospecting  round  the 
little  town,  and  visiting  the  smart  club  at  which  he  had 
been  put  up  as  an  honorary  member.  Di  and  our  hostess 
(she  made  us  call  her  Kitty,  a  sprightly  name  to  which  she 
struggled  to  live  up  to)  were  in  the  garden  when  Eagle 


64  SECRET  HISTORY 

came,  but  I  happened  to  be  in  the  drawing-room  with  a 
book,  so  I  had  about  five  minutes  alone  with  him  before 
Mrs.  Main's  black  butler  found  the  others. 

I  hadn't  tried,  as  a  well-regulated  young  girl  would  no 
doubt  have  tried,  to  "get  over"  being  in  love  with  Captain 
March.  I  had  just  simply  said  to  myself  that  the  kind  of 
unhappiness  which  loving  him  made  me  suffer  was  better 
than  any  little  wretched  pretence  at  half-baked  happiness 
I  could  hope  for  by  putting  him  out  of  my  mind.  So  I 
had  basked  in  the  painful  luxury  of  thinking  about  him 
constantly,  and  dreaming  dreams  of  how  I  might  serve  or 
sacrifice  myself  for  him,  and  win  his  passionate  gratitude. 
Consequently,  when  I  raised  my  eyes  from  the  Spanish 
novel  I  wanted  to  translate,  and  saw  Eagle  March  come  in 
at  the  door,  I  loved  him  a  thousand  times  more  than  ever. 
I  don't  know  if  an  unprejudiced  person  would  call  him 
actually  handsome;  but  I  thought  there  couldn't  be  on 
earth  a  man  worth  comparing  with  that  brown-faced 
soldier. 

He  was  glad  to  meet  his  "dear  little  pal"  again,  because 
of  what  he  could  get  out  of  her  about  his  loved  one.  He 
did  hold  back  his  eagerness  long  enough  to  rattle  off, 
"Why,  Peggy,  you're  growing  up!  By  Jove,  you're  al 
most  a  woman,  aren't  you?  and  a  pretty  one,  too — though 
you've  kept  your  impish  look,  I'm  glad  to  see!"  But 
that  was  only  the  preface.  As  soon  as  he  decently  could, 
he  turned  the  conversation  to  Diana.  How  was  she? 
As  beautiful  as  ever?  Though  of  course  she  was !  Did  she 
ever  speak  of  him?  He'd  passed  sleepless  nights  after  read 
ing  newspaper  paragraphs  which  reported  her  on  the  eve 
of  an  engagement  with  this  man  or  that — disgustingly 


SECRET  HISTORY  65 

rich,  overfed  brutes.  Was  there  a  grain  of  truth  in  any 
of  the  reports?  No?  Thank  heaven!  Well,  then,  per 
haps  there  was  a  sporting  chance  for  him  after  all! 

"But,  just  like  my  luck,"  he  went  on,  half  laughing, 
"there's  a  chap  here  who's  as  formidable  as  any  of  them. 
A  regular  twelve-and-a-half-inch  gun,  latest  make  and  im 
provements;  his  name's  Vandyke;  only  a  major;  all  the 
same  he's  got  a  pot  of  money.  There's  hardly  a  man  in 
the  army  as  rich  as  he  is,  if  there's  one.  Soldiering  means 
only  fun  for  him.  Most  of  us  here  are  like  me;  or  if  they 
don't  come  from  generations  of  soldiers  as  I  do,  they're 
in  the  service  for  a  career.  Vandyke  will  probably  resign 
if  he  gets  bored.  He's  dining  at  this  house  to-night. 
Notice  him,  and  tell  me  what  you  think  of  him  afterward, 
will  you?" 

"You're  coming,  too,  aren't  you?"  I  asked.  "Mrs. 
Main — Kitty — said  you  were,  and  I  was  so  glad." 

"I  should  say  I  was  coming!"  he  exclaimed.  "Catch 
me  giving  Vandyke  a  clear  field  at  the  start,  if  he  is  my 
superior  officer!  You  see,  Vandyke — 

But  on  the  name,  as  if  it  were  her  cue,  Diana  floated  in, 
and  Mrs.  Main  steamed  in  with  her,  through  one  of  the 
long  windows  which  opened  on  to  the  veranda.  After 
that  I  ceased  to  exist. 

Di  wore  white  that  night  for  the  dinner  party.  A 
good  deal  of  what  Father  was  saving  in  hotel  bills  he  put 
into  clothes  for  her.  It  was  a  new  dress,  and  sparkled  all 
over  like  a  moonlit  lily  crusted  with  dew.  I  had  a  fancy 
to  put  on  the  frock  with  roses  on  it,  which  I'd  bought  at 
Selfridge's  so  many  months  ago,  with  the  money  paid 
me  by  Eagle  for  my  mother's  lace.  The  dress  was  stiU 


66  SECRET  HISTORY 

alive,  and  on  active  service  (though  the  roses  began  to 
look  somewhat  sat  upon) ;  and  Eagle  had  never  seen  me  in 
it.  Not  that  he  would  notice  me  now !  But  I  had  a  queer 
feeling  of  sentiment  about  the  gown,  and  often  I  had  told 
myself  that  never,  never  would  I  throw  it  away.  I  should 
have  had  a  much  queerer  feeling  if  I'd  known  all  that  was 
yet  to  come  of  my  first  meeting  with  Eagle  March  in  the 
Wardour  Street  curiosity  shop. 

Kitty  Main  had  explained  that  it  wasn't  to  be  a  big, 
tiresome  dinner  on  our  first  night:  merely  a  few  people  she 
thought  dear  Lord  Ballyconal  and  Lady  Di  would  like  to 
meet,  and  "who  would  love  to  know  them — little  Peggy, 
too,  of  course!" — with  a  belated  gasp  of  politeness  for  me. 

There  would  be,  besides  ourselves,  only  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Tony  Dalziel  of  New  York;  their  pretty  daughter,  Millicent, 
just  out;  their  son,  Lieutenant  Dalziel — "Tony,"  too; 
Major  Vandyke;  and  Captain  March,  who  was  already  our 
friend. 

The  gossips  did  suggest,  Kitty  had  gone  on  to  hint,  that 
Millicent  Dalziel  was  rather  throwing  herself  at  Captain 
March's  head  (if  an  heiress  could  be  said  to  throw  herself 
at  the  head  of  a  poor  man) ;  but  of  course,  Milly  wouldn't 
have  a  look  in  now,  if  dear  Lady  Di  had  any  attention  to 
spare  for  Eagles  ton  March.  Di,  however,  was  to  be  taken 
in  to  dinner  by  Major  Vandyke,  and  Millicent  Dalziel  by 
Captain  March.  It  wasn't  probable  that  Milly  would 
give  him  much  chance  for  talk  with  Lady  Di,  although 
he  was  to  sit  beside  her.  "Good  little  Peggy"  would  have 
young  Tony,  so  nice  for  both  of  them!  and  dear  Lord 
Ballyconal  would  be  placed  between  his  hostess  and  Mrs. 
Dalziel. 


SECRET  HISTORY  67 

I  ought  to  have  had  eyes  only  for  my  special  prey, 
Lieutenant  Dalziel;  but  whether  I  pleased  or  bored  him 
seemed  so  comparatively  unimportant,  that  before  the 
guests  began  to  arrive,  I  found  my  faculties  preparing  to 
concentrate  elsewhere.  Di  hadn't  mentioned  the  name  of 
Major  Vandyke  while  I  did  her  hair,  or  melted  and  poured 
her  into  the  sparkly  frock,  but  I  felt  her  consciousness  of 
him  in  the  air;  and  when  his  name  was  announced  at  the 
door  of  the  "cottage"  drawing-room,  my  heart  gave  a 
jump  as  if  it  wanted  to  peer  over  the  high  wall  of  the  future. 

He  came  before  any  of  the  others,  so  I  had  time  to 
make  a  quick  black-and-white  study  of  him  in  my  brain, 
I  say  black  and  white,  because  you  would  always  think 
of  Sidney  Vandyke  in  black  and  white.  An  artist 
sketching  him  on  the  cover  of  a  magazine  would  need  no 
other  colour  to  express  the  man,  except — if  he  had  it 
handy — a  dash  of  red  for  the  full  lips  under  the  black 
moustache. 

"Major  Vandyke!"  the  soft,  drawling  voice  of  Kitty's 
negro  butler  proclaimed  him;  and  that  was  when  my  heart 
knocked  its  alarm.  Kitty  Main  generally  described  people 
in  superlatives,  so  I  hadn't  been  excited  when  she  remarked 
that  Major  Vandyke  was  the  "best-looking  man  in  the 
army."  But  this  time,  she  seemed  not  to  have  exagger 
ated.  There  couldn't  be  a  handsomer  man  in  any  army  or 
out  of  it,  and  a  horrid,  sly  little  voice  whispered  to  me: 
"What  a  splendid-looking  couple  he  and  Di  would  make ! " 

I  was  standing  far  in  the  background,  at  a  window 
opposite  the  door,  while  the  others  were  grouped  together 
more  in  the  foreground;  and  what  I  saw  was  a  very  tall  man 
(so  tall  that  he  could  dwarf  Eagle  March's  five  foot  ten 


68  SECRET  HISTORY 

almost  to  insignificance),  six  foot  two,  perhaps,  and — not 
stout  yet,  but  showing  signs  that  one  day  he  might  become 
so.  I  noticed  that  he  held  himself  magnificently,  his 
broad  shoulders  thrown  back,  his  head  up;  and  that  he 
walked  with  a  slight  swagger,  more  like  a  cavalryman  than 
an  officer  in  the  artillery.  Perhaps  it  was  the  electric  light 
which  made  his  skin  look  as  white  as  Diana's,  without  a 
touch  of  the  tan  that  darkened  Eagle  March's  fairer  com 
plexion;  but  the  white  was  of  a  different  quality,  somehow, 
from  Diana's.  Hers  is  pearl  white;  his  had  the  thick,  un- 
Iranslucent  look  which  pale  Jewish  faces  have.  I  didn't 
know  then  that  Sidney  Vandyke  was  of  Hebrew  blood,  but 
afterward  I  heard  that  his  mother  had  Spanish  Jews  for 
ancestors  on  one  side,  and  that  with  her  came  most  of  the 
family  money.  He  was  in  full  dress  uniform,  which  be 
came  him  splendidly;  and  I  had  a  glimpse  of  a  rather  large 
face,  drawn  with  square,  straight  lines  that  gave  it  a  relent 
less  look;  square  white  forehead;  straight  black  brows; 
straight,  short  nose;  large,  squarely  opened  dark  eyes, 
brilliant  and  self-confident;  straight  black  moustache; 
thick,  square  red  lips;  square  chin,  and  a  full  neck  set  on 
square  shoulders.  After  that  first  glimpse  I  saw  only  the 
profile,  for  in  meeting  Kitty  Main  and  being  introduced  to 
Di  and  Father,  Major  Vandyke  had  to  turn  half  away 
from  me.  Even  a  profile,  however,  tells  something;  and 
when  Major  Vandyke  began  to  talk  to  Di,  bending  down  a 
little,  I  could  see  that  he  admired  her  very  much,  or  else 
wanted  to  convey  this  impression  to  her  mind. 

Next  came  Eagle  March,  very  slim  and  boyish  in  shape 
and  size  compared  to  Major  Vandyke,  though  he  can't  be 
more  than  six  years  younger;  and  hardly  had  he  time  to 


SECRET  HISTORY  69 

greet  his  hostess  and  look  wistfully  at  Di,  when  the  Dalziels 
arrived,  a  party  of  four.  I  thought  that  the  father  and 
mother  (a  dear  little,  merry,  round-faced  couple,  curiously 
like  each  other  and  like  Billiken)  looked  too  young  and 
irresponsible  to  be  parents  of  anything  grown  up;  but 
perhaps  they  had  married  when  they  were  almost  children, 
for  Lieutenant  Dalziel,  who  was  inches  taller  than  his 
father,  had  the  happy  air  of  being  twenty  two  or  three,  and 
Mrs.  Main  had  said  that  the  girl  was  "just  out."  Young 
Tony — nut-brown  eyes,  skin,  and  hair,  clean  shaven, 
smiling,  with  teeth  white  and  even  as  kernels  of  American 
corn — was  a  glorified  edition  of  his  Billiken  father.  Miss 
Dalziel — Milly — was  not  a  bit  like  any  of  the  others,  who 
had  all  been  cut  from  the  same  pattern  and  painted  with 
the  same  paint.  She  was  even  slimmer  and  smaller  than  I 
am;  very  fair,  with  a  few  freckles,  and  lots  of  blue  veins  at 
her  temples.  She  had  an  obstinate  pink  button  of  a  mouth; 
dimples,  which  she  made  come  and  go  every  minute  by 
working  the  muscles  of  her  cheeks;  bright,  fluffy  red  hair 
done  high  on  her  head,  floating  eyes  of  gray  green,  and 
blackened  brows  and  lashes  which,  I  suppose,  had  started 
life  in  red.  She  gave  an  effect  of  prettiness  and  of  thinking 
herself  prettier  than  she  was,  an  opinion  in  which  her  dress 
maker  had  backed  her  up. 

Tony  Dalziel  was  jolly,  and  said  so  many  quaint  things 
in  priceless  slang  that  he  kept  me  laughing;  but  I  had  eyes 
if  not  ears  only  for  Di  and  Major  Vandyke.  "Say,  he's 
rushing  your  sister,  isn't  he?  Making  a  direct  frontal 
attack — what?"  remarked  my  neighbour,  so  it  must 
have  been  conspicuous.  One  could  see  Major  Vandyke 
consciously  absorbing  Diana,  throwing  over  her  head  a 


70  SECRET  HISTORY 

veil  of  his  own  magnetism,  as  if  to  hide  her  in  it  from 
other  men,  and  make  her  forget  their  existence. 

As  for  Di,  she  behaved  perfectly,  if  she  wished  to 
fascinate  and  tantalize  a  flirt,  such  as  Sidney  Vandyke  was 
said  to  be.  She  let  herself  seem  to  fall  under  his  spell,  and 
then  suddenly  slipped  gently  away,  turning  to  Captain 
March  who  sat  at  her  other  side.  She  would  talk  to  him  in 
a  friendly,  intimate  way,  in  a  low  voice,  with  little  happy 
outbursts  of  laughter  over  their  reminiscences  of  a  year 
ago;  then,  half  apologetically,  she  would  turn  back  to 
Vandyke  again,  raising  and  letting  fall  her  eyelashes  in  a 
way  entirely  her  own,  which,  somehow,  gives  the  effect  of  a 
blush.  It  was  Victorian,  or  Edwardian  at  latest,  but  much 
more  useful  than  any  substitute  girls  have  invented  since. 
That  night  began  the  battle  which  was  to  have  so  strange 
a  finish. 

I  don't  know  if  Major  Vandyke  was  serious  at  first. 
Perhaps  he  wanted  no  more  than  a  good  flirtation  with  a 
pretty  girl,  one  of  the  prettiest  he  had  ever  seen,  and 
desperately  loved  by  a  brother  officer.  You  see,  he  had 
probably  heard  already  from  Kitty  Main,  who  told  every 
thing  she  knew  and  a  great  deal  she  didn't  know,  that 
Captain  March  was  in  love  with  Di,  just  as  we  heard  from 
the  same  source  that  Major  Vandyke  was  jealous  of  his 
junior  because  of  flying  exploits  and  honours.  I  think, 
though,  that  from  the  moment  they  met,  Di  never  meant 
to  let  the  man  go  free.  She  saw  that  he  was  flirting,  and 
was  angry  that  he  should  dare.  This  put  her  on  her  mettle ; 
and  Diana  on  her  mettle  was  and  ever  will  be  formidable, 
because  of  her  cleverness,  which  never  lets  the  mettle  show. 
She  determined  that  Sidney  Vandyke  should  fall  in  love — 


SECRET  HISTORY  71 

over  ears  and  eyes  in  love — and  lie  did.  But  she  wasn't 
satisfied  even  with  that.  She  couldn't  bear  to  have  Eagle 
March  escape,  and  perhaps  be  snapped  up  by  Milly  Dalziel, 
who  was  sitting  on  the  bank  of  the  fishpond  with  her  hook 
baited.  Oh,  it  must  have  been  an  amusing  little  comedy 
for  outsiders  to  watch;  and  I  was  an  outsider  in  a  way;  but 
it  didn't  amuse  me.  I  was  sick  at  heart,  and  cross  with 
Tony  Dalziel,  who  wouldn't  leave  me  alone  or  give  me 
time  to  think  things  over. 

This  sort  of  manoeuvring  lasted  for  three  weeks ;  then  a 
bombshell  fell  in  our  midst.  Two  batteries  of  the  — th 
Artillery  were  ordered  immediately  to  El  Paso,  on  the  Mex 
ican  border,  where  a  raid  was  apparently  threatened. 
Major  Vandyke  and  Captain  March  and  Lieutenant  Dal 
ziel  were  all  to  go. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THERE  was  desolation  at  Alvarado  Springs,  in  the 
hotel,  and  in  the  super-cottages.  People — when  I 
say  people,  I  mean  women — didn't  come  to 
Alvarado  to  drink  the  celebrated  waters,  or  to  admire  the 
wonderful  scenery.  They  came  to  play  with  the  officers, 
and  now  the  bravest  and  best  (looking)  were  to  be  snatched 
from  them.  What  had  happened,  or  what  might  happen, 
was  a  mystery  to  mere  civilians ;  but  it  was  whispered  about 
that  possibly  there  might  be  real  fighting  at  El  Paso.  There 
must  have  been,  everybody  said,  something  serious  under 
the  rumours  of  a  threatened  attack  from  across  the  Rio 
Grande,  otherwise  government  would  not  be  sending  troops 
to  reinforce  the  large  garrison  at  Fort  Bliss,  or  be  offering 
to  take  women  and  children  away  from  the  river  towns,  in 
armoured  trains  if  desired.  Cavalry  and  infantry  were 
moving  south  from  other  army  posts,  we  heard,  to  guard 
the  concentration  camp  of  Mexican  refugee  prisoners  at  El 
Paso,  and  to  beat  back  a  rabble  of  invaders  if  need  came. 
The  order  reached  Alvarado  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  the 
batteries  were  to  leave  by  train  at  four  o'clock  the  next  morn 
ing.  As  it  happened,  Kitty  Main,  Father,  Di,  and  I  were  all 
invited  to  a  dance  that  evening  at  the  house  of  an  officer 
and  his  wife,  Captain  and  Mrs.  Kilburn;  but  when  the  news 
about  the  batteries  going  away  began  to  flash  from  cottage 
to  cottage  we  expected  the  party  to  be  given  up.  Di  looked 

72 


SECRET  HISTORY  73 

rather  blank  when  Mrs.  Main  flung  the  tidings  at  her,  for 
Sidney  Vandyke  hadn't  proposed  yet.  If  the  dance  were 
abandoned,  he  might  be  too  busy  getting  his  men  ready  to 
see  her  before  he  left;  and  heaven  alone  knew  when  the 
batteries  would  come  back.  There  might  be  fighting ;  there 
might  at  worst  even  be  war  with  Mexico;  and  whatever 
happened,  we  couldn't  stay  on  indefinitely  at  Alvarado. 
Kitty  Main  had  taken  the  cottage  and  asked  us  to  visit 
her  only  for  six  weeks.  Besides,  Alvarado  would  be  deso 
late  without  our  best  friends  and  possible  lovers. 

I  could  see  these  thoughts  developing  and  following  on  one 
another's  heels  in  Diana's  mind.  But  in  my  head  there 
was  nothing  concrete  enough  to  call  a  "thought."  Feel 
ings  seemed  to  have  raced  upstairs  from  heart  to  brain,  and 
driven  ideas  out  of  the  house.  They  ran  wildly  round  and 
round,  saying  to  each  other,  "What  if  I  never  see  him 
again?  What  if  he  should  be  killed?  "  But  while  we  were 
in  this  state,  Mrs.  Kilburn  telephoned  to  Kitty  Main  that 
she  had  decided  to  have  her  dance  in  spite  of  all.  Her 
husband  was  not  among  those  ordered  away,  and  the 
officers  who  were  going  had  arranged  to  spare  time  to  look 
in  for  three  or  four  dances  in  any  case.  Some  of  them 
might  be  very  early,  some  very  late,  but  there  would  be 
plenty  of  other  men  to  go  round;  and  Mrs.  Kilburn 
suggested  that  we  might  "keep  things  up"  long  enough  to 
see  the  soldiers  off  at  dawn,  before  motoring  back  to  the 
Springs,  if  that  would  interest  Lady  Diana  and  Lady  Peggy 
O'Malley. 

There  was  only  one  answer  to  this,  and  when  we  went 
over  to  Fort  Alvarado  for  the  dance  we  put  on  warmer 
cloaks  than  we  should  have  worn  ordinarily. 


74  SECRET  HISTORY 

Mrs.  Kilburn  had  brought  her  husband  money;  and  as 
she  loved  gayety  she  had  somehow  got  permission  to  build 
on  to  the  captain's  quarters  a  ballroom  surrounded  on 
three  sides  by  a  wide  veranda.  Consequently,  a  dance  at 
the  Kilburns'  was  worth  going  to  always,  and  particularly 
on  this  moonlight  night  of  April  when  the  whole  fort  was 
humming  with  excitement.  The  officers  who  were  ordered 
away  had  their  hands  full  of  work,  yet  the  young  ones 
managed  to  get  off  duty  if  only  for  a  few  minutes,  long 
enough  to  snatch  a  dance  or  two  with  the  girls  they  liked 
best,  or  to  "sit  out "  with  them  on  the  veranda,  where  there 
were  colonies  of  chairs,  and  garden  seats,  and  hammocks. 

Tony  Dalziel  was  one  of  those  who  came  early  to  the 
Kilburns' .  He  had  asked  me  beforehand  for  six  dances,  and 
I  had  given  him  three.  When  he  appeared  it  was  just  in 
time  for  the  first,  a  two-step.  The  second  would  follow 
directly  after,  and  the  third  I  knew  already,  from  a  note 
sent  me  in  haste,  he  would  have  to  miss. 

"Do  you  care  for  this?"  he  asked,  out  of  breath  with  his 
hurry  to  dress  and  sprint  over  from  the  far-off  line  of 
bachelors'  quarters.  "If  you  don't,  will  you  come  out 
side  and  see  the  moon  rise?  It's  going  to  be  a  great 
sight." 

There  is  no  poetry  in  a  two-step,  and  if  there  were  it 
would  have  been  lost  in  hopping  up  and  down  with  Tony, 
so  I  chose  the  moon.  I  thought  the  moon  a  perfectly  safe 
object  to  gaze  at  with  such  a  jolly  young  man,  who  made 
jokes  at  everything  in  the  heavens  or  upon  the  earth;  and 
unsuspectingly  I  went  with  him  to  a  nook  on  the  veranda 
screened  off  with  tall  plants  from  an  adjacent  hammock. 
It  was  a  nook  intended  for  two  and  no  more.  There  were  a 


SECRET  HISTORY  75 

great  many  nooks  of  that  sort  on  Mrs.  Kilburn's  veranda. 
She  specialized  in  flirtation  architecture. 

"Tell  me  about  everything,  please,"  I  cheerfully  began. 
"We  haven't  very  long,  have  we?" 

"That's  the  worst  of  it,"  said  Tony,  "and  that's  why 
I  must  be  careful  to  tell  you  only  the  important  things. 
There's  just  one  that  really  interests  me." 

"  What's  that?  "  I  asked  eagerly.  "  I  hope  not  that  you 
expect  fighting?" 

"No  such  luck,  I'm  afraid.  But  I'm  not  worrying  about 
that  now.  What  I  want  to  tell  you  is  this."  And  to  my 
stupefaction  he  shot  a  proposal  at  my  head  as  if  it  came 
out  of  a  field  gun.  I  knew  he  liked  me,  and  liked  to  be 
with  me,  but  I  couldn't  associate  the  idea  of  anything  so 
serious  as  marriage  with  Tony  Dalziel.  I  gasped  and 
said  he  couldn't  mean  it,  but  he  assured  me  that  he  did,  and 
a  dictionary  full  of  other  assurances  besides.  . 

Perhaps,  if  I  had  not  seen  Eagle  March  and  fallen  in 
love  with  him  once  and  forever,  I  might  have  thought 
twice  before  saying  "No"  to  Tony,  if  only  for  the  pride  of 
being  engaged  sooner  than  Di,  and  when  I  wasn't  yet  eigh 
teen.  Tony  Dalziel  was  what  all  women  call  "such  a  dear !" 
and,  besides,  he  had — or  would  have — plenty  of  money,  a 
consideration  in  our  family.  I  could  imagine  what  a  rage 
Father  would  be  in  with  me  if  he  knew  what  I  was  doing  at 
that  moment,  calmly  refusing  a  heaven-sent  opportunity. 
But  Eagle  March,  though  he  was  not  for  me,  made  all  the 
difference,  and  put  my  heart  into  a  convent  where  it  was 
now  undergoing  its  novitiate.  I  let  the  opportunity  slip, 
and  told  Tony  how  sorry  I  was  to  hurt  him.  But  he  wasn't 
inclined  to  take  that  for  an  answer.  He  wanted  to  know  if 


76  SECRET  HISTORY 

I  wouldn't  "leave  it  open,"  in  case  anything  happened  to 
make  me  change  my  mind.  I  warned  him  that,  so  far  as  I 
could  see,  I  would  never  change  it;  but  if  an  "optimist  will 
op" — as  Tony  remarked — what  can  you  do?  You  can't 
prevent  his  opping,  and  rather  than  hear  an  irrevocable 
word  he  bade  me  good-bye  while  I  protested.  This  was  in 
the  midst  of  what  should  have  been  his  second  dance,  and 
I  didn't  feel  equal  to  going  indoors  again  directly  after  that 
scene,  even  to  tango.  I  asked  Tony  to  leave  me  where  I 
was,  to  gather  up  my  wits,  and  when  he  had  darted  away 
I  sat  quite  still  for  a  few  minutes.  I  had  no  engage 
ment  until  the  time  for  my  one  dance  with  Eagle  March 
should  come;  and  as  Tony  hadn't  given  me  much  chance 
for  gazing  at  the  "great  sight"  he  had  brought  me  out  to 
see,  I  tried  to  cool  my  brain  with  moonlight.  But  I  had 
forgotten  all  about  the  hammock  on  the  other  side  of  the 
flower  screen.  I  remembered  it  only  when  I  heard  foot 
steps,  and  a  creaking  of  chairs  as  some  one — or  rather  some 
two — sat  down. 

"Good  gracious!"  I  said  to  myself.  "Now  what  shall  I 
do?"  For  as  the  pair  came  to  a  halt  they  went  on  with 
their  conversation,  which  had  evidently  reached  a  critical 
point.  I  recognized  the  man's  voice,  and  as  it  was  that  of 
Eagle  March,  I  knew  as  well  as  if  I  had  already  seen  her 
that  the  girl  must  be  Diana.  I  knew  also  that  she  would 
never  forgive  me  if  I  popped  out  at  this  moment,  like  the 
wrong  figure  on  a  barometer.  Nothing  on  earth  would 
make  her  believe  that  I  hadn't  been  "spying";  for  though 
Di  didn't  realize  how  much  and  in  what  way  I  cared  for 
Eagle,  she  often  teased  me  about  being  jealous  because  my 
great  "chum"  had  forsaken  me  for  her.  If  at  any  time 


SECRET  HISTORY  77 

she  could  call  him  away  from  me  by  a  glance  or  a  smile,  it 
amused  her  to  do  so;  and  she  would  believe  I  was  "re 
venging"  myself,  in  the  best  way  I  could,  on  this  their  last 
night. 

I  had  half  jumped  up  from  the  low  seat  which  Tony  had 
shared  with  me;  but  on  second  thoughts  I  sat  down  again. 

"She  won't  let  him  say  much,"  I  thought,  "so  there'll  be 
nothing  to  overhear.  Anyhow,  I  can  stop  my  ears,  if 
worst  comes  to  worst."  But  before  I  had  time  to  resolve 
on  this  precaution,  I  heard  Eagle  say,  "If  it  wasn't  for  the 
money,  I  shouldn't  feel  I  had  the  right 

The  rest  was  silence,  for  I  kept  my  resolution  and  refused 
to  catch  another  syllable;  yet  those  words  had  set  me 
thinking  hard.  If  Eagle  were  telling  Di  that  he  was  now 
certain  to  come  in  for  his  aunt's  fortune,  she  might  look 
upon  him  as  a  bird  in  the  hand,  whereas  a  notorious  flirt 
like  Major  Vandyke  might  be  worth  no  more  than  two  in 
the  bush  with  the  saltcellar  empty. 

I  struggled  to  find  consolation  by  reminding  myself  that, 
if  Di  did  marry  Eagle,  she  might  make  him  happy,  provided 
there  were  enough  money  for  everything  she  wanted,  and  if 
he  were  willing  to  cut  the  army  for  her  sake  and  live  mostly 
in  England.  She  wasn't  an  ill-natured  or  sharp-tongued 
girl  when  things  went  as  she  wished,  I  reflected,  and  if  he 
were  content  to  sacrifice  his  career  for  love  of  her,  they 
might  get  on  very  well  together.  But — what  desolating 
words  to  use  in  connection  with  Eagle  March — "get  on  well 
together!"  He  wasn't  one  to  be  satisfied  with  mere  con 
tentment,  where  he  had  hoped  for  rapture. 

I  sat  with  my  ears  stopped,  until  suddenly  the  two  began 
speaking  in  a  much  louder  tone;  and  a  third  voice,  that  of  a. 


78  SECRET  HISTORY 

man,  joined  the  conversation.  Then  I  decided  that  I 
might  come  back  to  life  again;  and  as  I  let  my  tired  arms 
drop,  I  became  aware  that  the  newcomer  was  Sidney 
Vandyke.  He  was  telling  Di  that  this  was  his  dance,  and 
that  he  had  been  looking  for  her  everywhere. 

"  I  heard  Kilburn  mention  that  the  Old  Man  had  sent  for 
you,  March,  and  I  know  they're  on  your  scent,"  he  an 
nounced. 

"In  that  case,  I  may  not  see  you  again,  Lady  Diana," 
Eagle  said. 

"Peggy  and  I  are  going  with  Mrs.  Kilburn  and  a  lot  of 
others  to  wave  to  you  for  good  luck,  when  you  start," 
answered  Di,  rather  nervously,  I  thought. 

"I'm  glad.  We  shall  have  a  last  glimpse  of  you  all,"  re 
plied  Eagle.  "But  I'm  afraid  I  shan't  get  a  word  with  you 
then.  So  I'll  bid  you  good-bye  now!" 

He  spoke  in  quite  a  matter-of-fact  way;  but  I,  who  knew 
every  tone  of  his  voice,  guessed  what  it  covered;  and  I  could 
almost  feel  the  pressure  of  his  hand  as  it  clasped  Di's,  with 
Major  Vandyke  mercilessly  looking  on.  I  wondered 
whether  she  had  been  cruel  or  kind. 

In  a  moment  he  was  gone;  and  with  a  stab  of  pain  I 
realized  that,  if  the  colonel  had  sent  for  him,  he  must  miss 
out  his  dance  with  me.  Would  he  even  remember  it? 
Would  he  scribble  me  a  line  of  farewell?  I  longed  to  run 
out  and  catch  him  before  he  went,  if  only  for  a  word,  but  I 
dared  not  dash  past  Di,  and  give  her  the  shock  of  learning 
that  I  had  been  within  three  yards  of  her  all  the  time. 
Again  I  was  trapped,  unless  Di  and  Major  Vandyke  should 
go  indoors  to  dance;  but  no  sooner  was  Eagle  March  out  of 
earshot  than  Vandyke  asked  Di  to  stay. 


SECRET  HISTORY  79 

"Of  course  we've  known  all  along  that  we  might  get 
marching  orders,"  he  said,  and  there  was  no  harm  in  my 
hearing  that.  "  It's  a  surprise  only  to  those  outside.  The 
adjutant  has  been  fussing  over  stores  and  ammunition,  and 
target  practice  has  been  a  confounded  bore.  All  the  same, 
at  the  end  the  move's  been  sprung  on  us,  just  when  we'd 
forgotten  to  expect  it.  I  feel  as  if  I'd  wasted  a  lot  of 
precious  time  one  way  or  another,  but  it  isn't  too  late  yet, 
Lady  Di,  if  you " 

I  stopped  up  my  ears  again  so  effectively  that  I  heard  no 
more,  and  a  few  minutes  later  was  flabbergasted  when 
Diana  and  he  suddenly  broke  upon  me  from  behind  the 
screen  of  plants. 

My  first  thought  was  that  Di  had  suspected  my  presence 
there,  and  had  wanted  to  pounce;  but  she  gave  a  jump  and 
a  cry  of  surprise  as  she  saw  me  sitting  bolt  upright  on  the 
bench,  with  my  fingers  stuffed  into  my  ears. 

"Good  gracious,  Peg!"  she  gasped.  "How  long  have 
you  been  here?" 

"Ever  since  before  you  came,"  I  answered.  I  might 
have  put  it  differently  by  telling  tales,  and  so  serving  Eagle 
March's  cause,  perhaps;  but  no  matter  how  thoroughly  I 
disapproved  of  her,  I  couldn't  give  my  own  sister  away.  "  I 
didn't  like  to  come  out,  you  see,  for  fear  you  mightn't  like 
it;  but  I  haven't  heard  anything  you've  said,  if  that  in 
terests  you  to  know." 

"I  don't  care  whether  you've  heard  or  not,"  said  Di, 
trying  to  speak  playfully,  but  unable  to  keep  sharpness  out 
of  her  tone.  "Major  Vandyke  thought  this  was  a  nicer 
seat  than  the  hammock  to  rest  in,  so  he  brought  me  to  it. 
Of  course,  we'd  no  idea  any  one  was — was  hiding  here!" 


80  SECRET  HISTORY 

"Well,  there  won't  be  any  one,  now  I'm  free  to  move," 
I  snapped.  "I'm  only  too  thankful  to  have  a  chance 
to  get  back  to  the  ballroom.  You've  made  me  miss  a 
dance." 

"We've  made  you?  I  like  that!"  gurgled  Di.  But  I 
waited  for  no  more.  I  skipped  away  toward  the  nearest 
long  window  without  looking  round,  and  was  just  in  time 
to  meet  my  partner  in  search  of  me,  the  partner  after  Eagle 
March,  and  a  brother  officer  of  his.  "Our  dance,"  said  he, 
"  and  here's  something  March  asked  me  to  hand  you.  He's 
been  called  away." 

The  "something"  was  a  leaf  torn  out  of  a  notebook  and 
neatly  folded  into  a  cocked  hat.  It  was  rather  appropriate 
that  Eagle's  good-bye  to  me  should  come  in  this  form,  be 
cause  I  had  given  him  the  notebook  for  a  birthday  present 
only  the  week  before.  I'd  saved  up  my  pennies  to  get  a 
good  one,  and  have  his  initials  in  silver  fastened  on  to  the 
khaki-coloured  morocco  cover.  The  paper  of  the  book 
itself  and  the  refills  were  also  khaki  coloured  to  match  the 
cover,  with  lines  in  very  faint  blue.  I  had  wanted  my 
little  gift  to  be  as  distinctive  as  possible,  and  had  taken  a 
great  deal  of  pains  to  choose  a  notebook  different  from  all 
others,  little  dreaming  what  was  fated  to  hang  on  the 
difference. 

Quietly  but  carefully  I  undid  the  paper  cocked  hat  and 
read  the  few  pencilled  words :  "So  disappointed,  dear  little 
friend,  not  to  have  my  dance  with  you,  but  I'm  called  back 
to  work.  Congratulate  me.  I've  got  almost  the  promise  1 
wanted.  The  next  best  thing,  anyhow.  Farewell  for  a 
while.  Write  to  me  to  El  Paso  like  the  good  girl  you  are. 
I  shall  look  for  you  at  the  train  to-morrow  morning  early. 


SECRET  HISTORY  81 

though  we  may  not  have  a  chance  to  speak.  Yours 
ever,  E.  M." 

I  folded  up  the  note  and  tucked  it  into  the  neck  of  my 
dress.  Then  I  danced.  And  all  the  rest  of  the  evening  I 
danced.  Yet  I  thought  only  of  one  thing:  the  half -veiled 
confidence  Eagle  had  given  me.  Apparently  Di  had  said 
something  calculated  to  send  him  away  happy.  But 
Major  Vandyke  had  looked  far  from  sad  when  he  walked 
into  the  ballroom  with  Di,  after  their  tete-a-tete  on  the 
veranda  in  my  deserted  nook.  I  felt  something  was  wrong, 
and  determined  to  have  it  out  with  Diana  the  minute  I 
could  get  her  alone.  My  chance  came  sooner  than  I  ex 
pected,  for  just  before  supper  she  tore  her  frock  and  wanted 
me  to  run  up  with  her  to  the  dressing-room  and  mend  it. 
"A  maid  will  make  an  awful  mess  of  the  thing,"  she  said, 
"but  you'll  know  what  to  do,  and  it'll  take  only  a  few 
minutes." 

We  had  the  dressing-room  to  ourselves,  for  Mrs.  Kil- 
burn's  French  maid,  who  was  in  charge,  had  slipped  away, 
probably  for  a  sly  peep  at  the  dancing.  When  I  had  Di  at 
my  mercy,  holding  her  by  a  trail  of  gold  fringe,  I  opened  fire. 

"Are  you  engaged  to  Eagle  March?  "  I  flashed  out. 

"Certainly  not,"  Di  flashed  back.  "What  makes  you 

think  such  a  thing?  You  said  you  didn't  hear "  In 

haste  she  cut  her  sentence  short,  realizing  how  she  had 
given  herself  away.  She  would  have  gone  on  quickly,  but 
I  broke  in. 

"You  ask  what  makes  me  think  such  a  thing  when  I 
told  you  that  I  didn't  hear  a  word  of  your  talk.  Which 
shows  that  if  I  had  heard,  I  might  have  thought  of  it.  Well, 
I  did  not  hear,  but,  all  the  same,  I  think." 


82  SECRET  HISTORY 

"You  needn't,  then,"  she  assured  me.  "If  I'm  engaged 
to  any  one,  it  is  to  Sidney  Vandyke.  But  I  tell  you  as 
much  as  that,  only  to  prove  there's  nothing  between  me 
and  Captain  March.  It's  in  strict  confidence,  and  you 
must  be  sure  and  keep  the  secret,  Peg,  till  I'm  ready 
to  have  it  come  out.  Nothing's  to  be  said  until  this 
Mexican  bother  is  over.  Can  you  make  the  fringe  look 
right?" 

"Yes,  if  you  give  me  time,"  I  answered.  "But,  Di,  I 
won't  have  you  playing  tricks  with  Eagle  March.  I  simply 
won't  stand  it!" 

"It's  horrid  of  you  to  suggest  that  I  would  do  such  a 
thing,"  Diana  protested  virtuously. 

"Pooh!"  said  I,  secure  in  my  knowledge  that  she  dared 
not  move.  "I  know  you  pretty  well,  Di,  and  although  you 
can  be  quite  a  darling  when  you  like,  you'd  do  anything — 
anything  whatever,  that  was  for  your  own  interests,  no 
matter  how  much  it  hurt  others.  You'd  better  tell  me  the 
truth,  because  I'm  sure  to  find  out;  and  if  you  mean  to  hurt 
or  deceive  Eagle  March  I'll  stop  you  from  doing  it,  I  don't 
care  how  much  it  may  cost  me  or  you,  or  any  one  else  but 
him." 

"If  ever  there  was  a  thorough  little  pig,  it's  you,  Peggy," 
said  Di. 

"Thorough  pigs  seem  to  run  in  our  family,"  I  ruthlessly 
retorted.  "But  they're  intelligent  animals,  and  this  one 
has  rooted  up  something  already.  I  believe  you've  practi 
cally  promised  to  marry  both  these  men,  and  persuaded 
them  to  keep  the  secret,  so  you  can  have  time  to  decide 
which  one  will  be  the  better  to  take,  in  the  end." 

"You  make  me  out  a  perfect  wretch,"  Di  moaned  pite- 


SECRET  HISTORY  83 

ously,  peering  over  her  shoulder  to  see  how  the  repairs 
were  getting  on. 

"So  you  are!  A  beautiful  one,  but  a  wretch.  You 
like  them  both,  Eagle  and  Major  Vandyke.  You  like 
Eagle  because  he's  so  popular  and  such  a  hero  as  an  air 
man;  and  you  like  Major  Vandyke  because  he's  awfully 
good  looking  and  awfully  rich  and  an  awful  flirt.  You 
were  worried  to  death  for  fear  he  wouldn't  propose,  and 
I'd  have  known  to-night,  from  the  change  in  your  face, 
even  if  you  hadn't  told  me,  that  he  had  spoken  at  last. 
But  Eagle  spoke,  too,  and  you  sent  him  away  happy.  I 
know  that;  though  the  only  other  thing  I  do  know  for 
certain,  is  that  you  think  now  he's  sure  to  get  his  aunt's 
money." 

"It's  not  such  a  tremendous  lot,  anyhow,"  Di  gave  her 
self  away  again.  "He  won't  have  more  than  two  or  three 
hundred  thousand  dollars  at  the  most.  If  only  it  were 
pounds!  Every  one  says  Sidney  Vandyke  has  a  million. 
He's  one  of  the  few  very  rich  men  in  the  American 
army." 

"But  he  can't  fly,  and  he  can't  invent  things,  and  he'll 
never  be  the  man  in  any  career  that  Eagle  will,"  I  reminded 
her.  "You  know  this  as  well  as  I  do.  That's  why  you're 
waiting.  Don't  you  think  you'd  better  explain  your  true 
state  of  mind  to  me,  if  you  don't  want  me  to  work  against 
you?" 

"You're  a  cat  as  well  as  a  pig,  you  little  horror!" 

"What  a  museum  combination!  Don't  twitch,  or  the 
fringe  will  go  crooked.  Is  Eagle's  rich  aunt  likely  to  die?" 

"Well,  yes,  she  is,"  Diana  admitted.  "She's  very  old, 
you  know.  She's  had  a  third  stroke  of  paralysis.  If  Eagle 


84  SECRET  HISTORY 

could  have  got  leave  he  would  have  gone  to  her,  but  that 
was  out  of  the  question  as  things  are." 

"Did  he  tell  you  about  her,  or  was  it  some  one  else  who 
gave  you  the  news?" 

"It  was  some  one  else,  of  course.  Naturally  I  wanted 
to  make  sure,  so  I — sympathized  with  him  on  his  aunt's 
illness.  He  had  only  just  heard  about  it,  himself.  He's 
always  been  fond  of  her,  and  he  said  he  couldn't  have  had 
the  heart  to  come  to  a  dance,  if  it  hadn't  been  his  last 
night,  and  the  only  way  to  see  me  before  he  left  for  Texas. 
But  he  told  me  that  Mrs.  Cabot's  death  would  make  him 
comparatively  a  rich  man.  Those  were  the  words  he 
used.  I  don't  think  he's  sure  how  much  he'll  get.  It  was 
from  Kitty  I  heard  what  Mrs.  Cabot  is  likely  to  leave." 

"And  as  *  likely'  isn't  the  same  as  'certain,'  you're  hang 
ing  fire  till  she's  dead,"  I  explained  Diana  to  herself. 

"You  make  me  out  heaps  worse  than  I  am,"  she  re 
proached  me.  "If  I  haven't  given  an  absolutely  definite 
answer  to  Eagle  March  or  Sidney  Vandyke,  it's — it's — 
because  of  this  expedition  they're  both  going  on.  They 
may  get  some  chance  to  distinguish  themselves.  You're 
such  a  practical  little  person  that  you  can't  realize  the 
romantic  sort  of  feeling  I  have  about  such  things.  If  I 
marry  a  man  who  isn't  of  my  own  country,  I  should  like 
him  to  be  a  great  hero,  whom  every  one  would  read  about 
and  admire.  I've  told  each  of  them  to  work,  and  do  his 
best  for  my  sake." 

"There'll  probably  be  no  opportunity  for  anything 
heroic  in  such  an  expedition  as  this,"  said  I,  living  up  to 
the  reputation — ill-deserved — for  practicality,  which  Di 
wished  to  thrust  on  me  in  contrast  with  herself. 


SECRET  HISTORY  85 

"That's  what  they  both  said,"  she  agreed,  "but  one 
never  knows." 

"And  so  you  get  a  story-book-heroine  excuse  to  wait!" 

"Little  viper!" 

"  The  cat-pig-viper  won't  sting  unless  you  force  it 
to,"  I  guaranteed.  "There!  Your  dress  is  all  right 
again." 

"You  could  have  finished  five  minutes  ago,  if  you  hadn't 
been  determined  to  lecture  me.  Thanks,  all  the  same. 
You  have  your  uses,  though  they're  not  always  sweet,  like 
those  of  adversity." 

We  went  our  separate  ways  with  the  men  who  were 
waiting  to  take  us  in  to  supper;  and  we  didn't  come  to 
gether  again  till  the  dance  was  over,  and  every  one  but 
the  party  specially  asked  to  stay  had  gone  home.  We 
heard  the  bugles  sounding  reveille;  then  presently  the  beat 
of  drums  and  the  rumble  of  the  field  guns  going  to  the 
station.  When  Captain  Kilburn  announced  that  the 
entrainment  was  well  under  way,  we  started  in  his  big 
limousine,  shivering  a  little  in  evening  cloaks  flung  on 
hastily  over  low-necked  dresses.  We  waited  till  the  plat 
form  was  clear  of  the  great  mass  of  khaki-clad  young  men, 
and  then  timidly  appeared,  to  stare  through  the  dusk  of 
early  morning  in  search  of  friends.  Ours  wasn't  the  only 
party  engaged  in  that  business.  Others  were  there;  and 
swathed  figures  of  girls  and  women,  in  rich-coloured  cloaks 
over  pale-tinted  ball  gowns,  glimmered  in  the  dawn  like 
a  row  of  tall  flowers  crowding  along  the  edge  of  a  garden 
path.  My  eyes  were  trying  to  find  Eagle  March  when 
Tony  Dalziel  spoke  by  my  shoulder,  and  made  me  jump. 
"I've  just  a  minute,"  he  said  when  I  turned.  "I  want  to 


86  SECRET  HISTORY 

ask  you  if  you'll  forget  you  turned  me  down  last  night,  and 
be  friends  again.  I  will  if  you  will.  Will  you?" 

"Yes,"  I  returned  gladly,  shaking  hands.  "I'm  so 
glad  you've  realized  that  you  were  silly  to  feel  about  me 
like  that.  Why  you  or  any  man  should,  I  can't  think!" 

"Can't  you?  That's  because  you  haven't  seen  your 
self,  or  heard  yourself,  and  don't  know  what  a  quaint,  dar 
ling  sort  of  girl  you  are.  But  never  mind.  Let  it  go  at 
that.  We'll  be  friends.  And  promise,  if  my  mother  and 
Milly  ask  you  to  do  something  for  them,  you  will." 

"Anything  I  possibly  can,"  I  warmly  answered.  "  Good 
bye!  Good  luck!" 

He  was  off.  I  meant  to  follow  him  with  my  eyes  and 
wave  to  him  when  he  looked  out  of  his  window  in  the 
train.  But  before  he  appeared  again,  I  caught  sight  of 
Eagle  March  on  a  car  platform,  and  forgot  Tony,  just 
as  Eagle  had  forgotten  me.  Behind  Eagle's  slight  figure 
towered  massively  Major  Vandyke's  splendid  bulk;  and 
as  I  waved  my  handkerchief  to  Eagle,  while  the  train  slid 
slowly  out,  I  was  vaguely  aware  of  Diana's  outstretched 
arm  and  a  butterfly  flutter  of  something  white  and  small. 
Eagle's  eyes  went  past  me  to  her,  though  his  smile  was  for 
me  also;  and  Di  was  able  deftly  to  kill  her  two  birds  with 
one  stone,  at  the  last.  Her  farewell  look  and  gesture  did 
equally  well  for  both,  yet  each  could  take  it  wholly  to 
himself. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  next  night  I  had  a  dreadful  dream  about 
Eagle  March.  Somehow  or  other,  he  had  been 
condemned  to  death  by  Major  Vandyke  (who 
had  unbecomingly  turned  into  a  judge)  and  Eagle  was  to 
be  executed  unless  I  could  arrive  in  time  to  save  him, 
armed  with  a  reprieve  or  pardon — I  didn't  quite  know 
which — that  I  had  got  from  Washington.  I  waked  up  cry 
ing  out,  because  a  hand  had  been  stretched  forth  through 
darkness  to  clutch  my  shoulder,  and  prevent  me  from  get 
ting  to  El  Paso  until  too  late.  Even  then,  when  I  was  wide 
awake,  the  dream  had  been  so  horribly  vivid  that  I  couldn't 
persuade  myself  it  wasn't  true.  I  had  always  laughed  at 
superstitious  people  who  believed  in  dreams,  yet  I  couldn't 
clear  my  mind  of  this  one,  or  keep  from  asking  myself  in 
a  panic,  "What  if  it's  a  warning?"  It  seemed  that  after 
all  such  things  might  mysteriously  be. 

Alvarado  Springs  was  as  dull  as  a  convent  after  the 
officers  we  liked  best  had  gone  from  the  fort,  and  Kitty 
proposed  subletting  her  cottage  to  an  invalid  who,  for  a 
wonder,  had  really  come  to  the  place  for  nothing  but  to 
take  the  cure.  This  rare  creature  was  distressed  by  the 
noises  of  the  hotel,  and  was  willing  to  pay  more  than 
Kitty  had  paid,  for  the  remaining  few  weeks  of  Mrs. 
Main's  tenancy.  Our  hostess  was  enchanted  with  the 
idea,  clapped  her  fat,  dimpled  hands  like  a  little  girl,  and 

87 


88  SECRET  HISTORY 

proposed  to  "blow"  the  money  (this  was  slang  she  had  de 
lightedly  picked  up  from  Father)  on  a  motor  tour  to  Cali 
fornia.  She  had  no  car  of  her  own,  but  she  could  hire  one, 
with  a  chauffeur  we  had  often  taken  for  short  runs,  and  at 
Los  Angeles,  Riverside,  Santa  Barbara,  San  Francisco, 
and  other  places,  she  had  friends  who  would  shower  in 
vitations.  The  trip  would  take  from  two  to  six  weeks, 
according  to  our  own  desire.  Then,  when  we  were  tired 
of  motoring  and  country-house  visiting,  the  car  would  be 
sent  home,  and  we  could  have  the  fun  of  going  East  to 
gether  by  the  "Limited,"  which,  Kitty  said,  was  one  of  the 
most  wonderful  trains  in  the  world. 

This  was  the  proposal,  and  it  suited  Father  and  Di  very 
well.  Each  had  a  reason  for  wishing  to  prolong  the  tour 
in  America,  if  it  could  be  done  "on  the  cheap."  Di,  of 
course,  wanted  to  see  Major  Vandyke  or  Captain  March 
— whichever  she  decided  to  take  in  the  end — and  settle 
her  affairs  definitely  before  going  home  to  prepare  for  the 
wedding.  As  to  Father,  I  began  to  ask  myself  about  this 
time  if  he  seriously  thought  of  making  our  "Main  Chance" 
a  countess,  and  counting  her  dollars  into  his  own  pockets. 
In  any  case,  travelling  luxuriously  in  a  land  where  poor  Irish 
earls  weighed  as  well  in  the  balance  as  a  rich  English  variety, 
was  better  than  vegetating  at  Ballyconal  or  economiz 
ing  in  London;  so  he  smiled  upon  the  plan,  and  I  was  the 
one  obstacle.  The  only  comfortable  car  that  Mrs.  Main 
could  get  at  short  notice,  was  ideal  for  five,  counting  a 
chauffeur  and  a  maid,  but  close  quarters  for  six.  I  couldn't 
be  put  permanently  with  the  chauffeur;  and,  besides, 
Kitty's  looks  were  of  the  sort  that  depend  upon  a  maid. 
"Dear  little  Peggy  must  just  squeeze  in  somehow,"  was 


SECRET  HISTORY  89 

her  verdict,  although  Di  would  temporarily  have  done 
without  my  services  rather  than  be  cramped,  if  I  could 
have  been  disposed  of  elsewhere.  She  and  Father  put 
their  heads  together,  and  I  had  begun  to  feel  in  my  bones 
that  an  invitation  for  me  from  Mrs.  Kilburn  was  to  be 
hinted  at,  when  Mrs.  Dalziel  came  to  the  rescue. 

Her  husband  had  gone  back  to  New  York  long  ago, 
and  she  and  Milly  had  been  wondering  ever  since  Tony's 
orders  came,  whether  it  might  be  feasible  to  follow  him 
to  El  Paso,  and  "see  what  was  doing  there."  He  had 
now  wired  that  all  the  women  of  the  neighbourhood 
had  refused  to  leave  the  men;  that  the  "scare"  was 
dying  down;  that  it  looked  as  if  the  imported  troops 
would  have  nothing  more  exciting  to  do  than  guard 
the  concentration  camp;  and  there  was  a  gorgeous 
hotel  in  the  town,  full  of  rich  Spanish  refugees,  men 
who  were  celebrities,  and  women  who  were  beauties. 
Mrs.  Dalziel  had  accordingly  decided  to  venture;  and 
Milly  would  enjoy  the  trip  immensely,  if  Father  would  let 
me  go  with  them  as  their  guest.  The  eyes  of  my  family 
lighted  at  this  hope  of  liberation,  and  I  suddenly  under 
stood  what  Tony's  last  words  to  me  had  meant.  This 
was  his  plan;  but  I  wanted  so  violently  to  go  to  El  Paso 
and  was  so  violently  wanted  to  go  by  Father  and  Di,  that 
I  didn't  stop  to  debate  whether  or  no  it  was  right  to  say 
yes.  I  simply  said  it,  and — hang  the  consequences! 

Di  bade  me  an  affectionate  farewell,  with  a  plaintive 
reminder  that  a  girl  not  likely  to  be  proposed  to  every  day 
might  do  worse  than  Tony  Dalziel.  I,  in  turn,  reminded 
her  that  any  knavish  juggling  with  Captain  March's  faith 
would  be  dealt  with  severely  by  me;  and  so  we  parted, 


90  SECRET  HISTORY 

she  to  go  her  way  to  California  en  automobile,  I  to  go  mine 
to  Texas  by  Santa  Fe  trains. 

I  was  grateful  to  Mrs.  Dalziel  and  Milly  for  taking  me, 
though  I  couldn't  help  seeing  that  it  was  not  for  my  beaux 
yeux  they  had  asked  me  to  be  their  guest.  I  was  a  handle, 
or  cat's-paw;  but  I  preferred  the  part  of  usefulness  to  my 
hostesses  to  being  carted  about  by  them  as  an  expensive 
luxury.  Mrs.  Dalziel  really  wanted  me  for  Tony,  who 
had  never  been  denied  anything  short  of  the  moon  that 
he  cried  for.  Milly  wanted  people  to  think  that  she  wanted 
me  for  Tony,  in  order  to  have  an  invincible,  ironproof 
excuse  for  the  rush  to  El  Paso,  which  her  friends  of  the  cat 
tribe  might  attribute  to  a  different  motive.  She  had  been 
rather  depressed  at  Alvarado,  but  began  to  bubble  over 
with  wild  spirits  the  moment  we  were  off  for  El  Paso. 
She  said  that  this  would  be  the  great  adventure  of  our 
lives,  and  she  was  only  sorry  all  danger  along  the  bor 
der  was  over,  as  we  shouldn't  get  the  chance  to  show  how 
brave  we  were. 

It  was  an  interesting  journey,  every  stage  of  it;  and 
at  Las  Cruces  and  after,  we  began  to  realize  how  close  we 
were  to  old  Mexico.  Only  the  river  ran  between  us  and 
that  mysterious,  ancient  land,  as  far  removed  in  thought 
from  the  United  States  as  though  it  were  an  annex  of 
Egypt.  Here  and  there,  too,  the  Rio  Grande  (which  I'd 
thought  of  geographically  as  a  vast  stream,  wide  as  a  lake) 
was  a  mere  water  serpent,  writhing  in  its  shallow  bed  of 
mud.  This,  we  heard  our  fellow  passengers  say,  explained 
the  late  danger  of  a  raid.  It  would  be  as  "easy  as  falling 
off  a  log"  for  a  party  of  ill-advised  Mexicans  to  make  a 
dash  across  the  river,  and  already  there  had  been  small  pri- 


SECRET  HISTORY  91 

vate  expeditions  of  cattle  stealers.  Staring  out  of  the  win 
dows  at  little  adobe  villages,  their  huddled  houses  turned 
from  brown  to  cubes  of  gold  by  the  afternoon  sun,  we 
listened  to  all  sorts  of  disquieting  gossip.  According  to  the 
travellers,  who  talked  loudly  to  each  other  across  the  car, 
the  "scare"  was  suddenly  on  again.  Some  more  Federals 
had  escaped  the  Constitutionalist  soldiers,  and  got  into 
Del  Rio,  where  they  had  been  protected  by  American  sol 
diers,  and  there  had  been  some  shooting  from  one  side 
of  the  river  to  the  other.  Carranza  was  threatening  re 
prisals;  no  one  seemed  to  know  what  Villa's  attitude  would 
be.  A  few  American  women  who  had  little  children  had 
decided  after  all  to  go  north.  At  Las  Cruces  and  El  Paso 
you  could  no  longer  buy  a  Browning,  or  arms  of  any  kind. 
All  had  been  snapped  up.  Las  Cruces  men,  remember 
ing  that  the  militia  was  composed  of  Mexicans,  had  begun 
giving  their  wives  lessons  in  target  practice.  At  El  Paso 
there  was  the  peril  of  the  Mexican  population  to  be  faced 
in  case  of  attack  from  across  the  river;  to  say  nothing  of 
the  thousand  Mexicans  employed  in  the  smelting  works 
down  on  the  flats,  and  the  five  thousand  refugees  in  the 
concentration  camp,  if  they  should  mutiny  and  get  out  of 
control. 

Poor  Mrs.  Dalziel  drooped  more  and  more  piteously  as 
this  ball  of  gossip  was  tossed  from  one  side  of  the  car  to  the 
other,  and  Milly's  ever  white  face  grew  so  pale  that  her 
freckles  stood  out  conspicuously.  She  ceased  to  exclaim 
with  excitement  over  the  cowboys  galloping  along  the 
road  on  the  United  States  side  of  the  river,  or  to  count  the 
automobiles  and  the  great  alfalfa  barns  near  small  sta 
tions  where  black- veiled  Mexican  women  waved  sad  fare- 


92  SECRET  HISTORY 

wells  to  weedy,  olive-faced  youths,  perhaps  going  to  the 
"war." 

"Of  course,  we're  not  afraid  for  ourselves"  said  Mrs. 
Dalziel.  "We — we  should  want  to  be  near  Tony,  what 
ever  happened.  It's  of  you  we're  thinking,  Peggy.  I 
don't  know  if  we  ought  to  have  brought  you  to  such  a 
place.  And  I  do  wish  Tony's  father  were  with  us,  any 
how." 

The  nearer  we  came  to  El  Paso,  the  more  foreign  and 
Mexican  the  country  seemed,  with  its  wild  purple  moun 
tains  billowing  along  the  sunset  sky  of  red  and  gold;  its 
queer,  Moorish-looking  groups  of  brown  huts,  and  its 
dark-skinned  men  in  sombreros  or  huge  straw  hats  with 
steeple  crowns.  It  was  quite  a  relief  to  draw  into  El  Paso 
station  where  everything  was  suddenly  modern  and  Amer 
ican,  and  comfortably  normal  again. 

Tony  had  got  off  duty  to  come  and  meet  us;  and  after 
the  first  "how-do-you-dos,"  his  mother  began  bombarding 
him  with  questions.  What  had  happened?  What  was 
likely  to  happen?  Wouldn't  it  have  been  better  to  tele 
graph  us  not  to  come? 

She  and  Milly  both  had  the  air  of  eagerly  hoping  that 
he  might  after  all  be  able  to  sweep  away  their  fears  with 
a  word  or  a  laugh;  but  for  once,  Tony  kept  as  solemn  a 
face  as  the  conformation  of  his  benevolent  Billiken  features 
permitted. 

"There's  nothing  at  all  to  worry  about,  if  you  don't  get 
silly  and  panicky,"  said  he.  "I  did  think  of  telegraphing, 
not  because  there's  any  real  danger,  but  because  I  was 
afraid  that  when  you  got  down  here,  if  things  hadn't 
cleared  up,  the  newspaper  'extras'  and  the  way  they  talk  at 


SECRET  HISTORY  93 

the  hotels  might  give  you  the  jumps.  I  couldn't  have  wired 
till  after  you'd  started,  though,  because  there  was  nothing 
doing  before  that,  worth  a  telegram.  I  thought  it  would 
scare  you  blue  if  you  got  a  message  delivered  to  you  in  the 
train  saying  better  not  come,  or  words  to  that  effect;  so  it 
seemed  best  to  let  things  rip.  Now  you're  on  the  spot, 
you  just  keep  your  hair  on,  and  don't  believe  anything 
you  read  or  hear;  then  you'll  be  all  right." 

"My  hair  doesn't  come  off,  dearest,"  objected  Mrs. 
Dalziel  mildly,  which  made  us  laugh;  and  that  did  every 
body  good. 

"I  bet  Lady  Peggy  isn't  afraid  worth  a  cent,"  Tony  re 
marked. 

"Rather  not!"  said  I.  "I  wouldn't  go  away — no,  not 
if  you  set  mice  at  me!  Even  if  Mrs.  Dalziel  and  Milly 
went,  I'd  stay  on  and  volunteer  as  a  nurse.  I  can  do  first 
aid,  and  I  don't  mind  the  sight  of  blood  if  there  isn't  too 
much;  though,  of  course,  it  would  be  better  if  it  were  a 
peaceful  green  or  blue  instead  of  that  terrifying  red." 

Tony  took  us  in  a  taxi  to  the  Paso  del  Norte,  a  big  hotel 
good  enough  for  New  York  or  London;  and  even  in  that 
short  spin  through  the  streets,  we  saw  the  newspaper 
"extras"  being  hawked  about  by  yelling  boys  who  waved 
the  papers  to  show  off  their  huge  scarlet  headlines.  The 
marble  entrance  hall  of  the  hotel  was  crowded  with  peo 
ple  who  had  just  bought  these  extras,  and  were  reading 
aloud  tit-bits  of  "scare"  news  to  each  other,  or  discussing 
the  situation  in  groups.  Some  looked  very  Spanish,  and 
Tony  said  they  were  refugees,  from  the  heart  of  Mexico; 
but  the  women  seemed  to  have  had  plenty  of  time  to  sort 
out  and  pack  their  prettiest  clothes  before  they  fled. 


94  SECRET  HISTORY 

That  night  Eagle  March  was  asked  to  dine  with  us  at 
the  hotel.  He  sat  between  Mrs.  Dalziel  and  Milly,  and 
more  than  once  I  caught  his  eyes  resting  on  me  thought 
fully,  almost  wistfully.  I  wondered  if  there  were  something 
that  he  was  particularly  anxious  to  say,  but  Milly  kept 
him  occupied  even  after  dinner  was  over  and  we  were  hav 
ing  coffee  in  the  hall.  I  was  resigning  myself  to  the  idea 
that  we  shouldn't  be  given  time  for  a  word  together,  when 
out  of  the  crowd  appeared  Major  Vandyke.  He  was  with 
friends,  but  escaped,  and  crossed  the  hall  to  shake  hands 
with  us.  I  noticed  what  stiff,  grudging  nods  he  and  Eagle 
gave  each  other,  just  enough  of  a  nod  not  to  be  a  cut. 
Something  disagreeable  had  evidently  happened  between 
them  since  they  left  us  at  Fort  Alvarado;  for  in  those  days, 
no  matter  how  they  felt,  they  always  kept  up  the  pretence 
of  being  good  enough  friends. 

When  Major  Vandyke  had  been  civil  to  me  and  asked 
after  my  "people,"  he  began  telling  Mrs.  Dalziel  and  Milly 
things  about  the  state  of  affairs  in  El  Paso.  "You  may 
have  come  in  for  a  small  adventure,  after  all,'*  said  he. 
"  We've  had  to  warn  the  occupants  of  some  of  the  tallest 
buildings  in  town  that  they  may  be  called  on  to  clear  out 
at  five  minutes'  notice,  if  we  have  trouble,  for  their  houses 
would  be  in  range  of  gunfire  from  both  sides.  But  you'll 
be  all  right  here  at  the  hotel,  whatever  happens.  We're 
strong  enough  to  protect  you." 

He  laughed,  and  I  saw  that  he  enjoyed  teasing  timid 
little  Mrs.  Dalziel.  I  thought  that  haughty  "we,"  con 
stantly  coming  in,  was  characteristic  of  the  man,  and  judg 
ing  by  the  odd  expression  which  just  flickered  lightly 
across  Eagle's  face,  he  was  thinking  the  same  thing.  Tony 


SECRET  HISTORY  95 

joined  boyishly  in  the  conversation,  to  reassure  his  mother 
and  Milly,  and  Eagle  promptly  seized  the  moment  for  a 
word  with  me. 

"Any  message?"  he  asked  in  a  low  voice.  I  shook  my 
head. 

"Oh,  well,"  he  said,  "I'm  mighty  glad  to  see  you,  any 
how,  little  girl.  Lucky  Tony!  I'm  rather  jealous  of  him, 
you  know.  I'd  got  sort  of  in  the  habit  of  thinking  I  had 
the  only  claim." 

I  felt  myself  go  scarlet.  What  a  good  thing  one  doesn't 
blush  all  colours  of  the  rainbow ! — for  I  had  the  sensation 
of  a  prism.  "Tony  Dalziel  may  be  lucky,"  I  stammered. 
"I  hope  he  is.  But  his  luck  has  nothing  to  do  with  me. 
Neither  has  he — except  as  a  friend.  That's  quite  under 
stood  between  us." 

"Oh,  is  it?"  smiled  Eagle.  "I'm  a  selfish  beast  to  be 
glad,  but  I  am.  I  was  feeling  quite  low  in  my  mind  and 
'out  of  it'  at  dinner." 

So  the  wistful  looks  had  been  for  me!  It  seemed  too 
good  to  be  true,  even  to  have  so  much  place  in  Eagle's 
heart  that  he  didn't  want  to  lose  me. 

When  Milly  turned  to  him,  as  she  did  almost  instantly, 
for  consolation  after  Major  Vandyke's  teasing,  Eagle  told 
her,  while  I  listened,  how  very  little,  in  his  opinion,  there 
was  for  any  one  to  fear.  It  was  true,  of  course,  that  the 
troops  had  come  to  El  Paso  for  a  purpose.  Every  one 
thought  it  had  been  served  by  frightening  out  of  a  certain 
faction  of  Mexicans  such  vague,  secret  hopes  as  they  might 
foolishly  have  cherished.  Now  to  be  sure,  the  "scare  act" 
was  being  read  again,  but  the  big  field  guns  pointing 
across  the  river  were  in  any  case  powerful  enough  to  keep 


96  SECRET  HISTORY 

the  peace.  Captain  March  wanted  to  know  if  we  would 
care  to  visit  the  camps  next  day.  If  so,  he  would  help 
Dalziel  arrange  the  visit.  This  suggestion  saved  Milly 
the  trouble  of  hinting  for  it,  and  she  was  happy;  but  her 
happiness  was  destined  to  be  short-lived.  It  was  destroyed 
in  the  night  by  a  band  of  vicious  microbes  with  which  she 
had  been  fighting  a  silent  battle  during  the  long  journey 
to  El  Paso.  They  won,  and  kept  her  in  bed  with  a  pink 
nose  and  eyes  overflowing  with  grief  and  influenza. 

I  nobly  offered  to  stay  with  her,  but  Mrs.  Dalziel  had 
a  son  as  well  as  a  daughter.  She  said  we  must  go  and  take 
a  look  at  Tony's  tent,  if  we  did  nothing  else;  and  perhaps 
it  would  have  ended  in  our  doing  not  much  more  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  Eagle. 

El  Paso  was  one  of  the  most  deliciously  exciting  places 
in  America  just  then,  and  there  were  many  things  which 
I  wanted  far  more  to  see  than  Tony  Dalziel's  tent.  There 
was  the  town  itself,  with  its  broad  streets  and  tall  buildings 
(which  made  me  shiver  with  the  wildly  absurd  thought  of 
their  being  smashed  by  silly  rebel  guns  from  across  the 
river) ;  its  shady  avenues  of  alluring  bungalows,  and  its  parks 
— all  so  gay  and  peaceful  in  the  warm  spring  sunshine  that 
the  very  suggestion  of  war  within  a  thousand  miles  seemed 
fantastic  melodrama,  despite  the  shouting  newspaper  boys 
with  a  fearsome  "extra"  coming  out  every  fifteen  minutes. 
There  was  new  Fort  Bliss,  the  cavalry  post,  and  old 
Fort  Bliss,  famous,  they  told  me,  as  long  ago  as  the 
days  of  Indian  warfare.  There  was  the  concentration 
camp  where  five  thousand  Mexicans  were  guarded  by 
soldiers,  and  there  were  the  camps  of  the  reinforcing 
troops,  artillery,  cavalry,  and  infantry.  I  wanted  to  miss 


SECRET  HISTORY  97 

nothing,  but  when  we  had  motored  to  old  Fort  Bliss  down 
by  the  river  and  the  smelting  works,  and  seen  the  faded 
houses  in  temporary  occupation  of  visiting  officers;  when 
we  had  spun  out  to  new  Fort  Bliss  to  admire  the  smart 
quarters  and  barracks,  and  when  we  had  trailed  about  a 
a  Kttle  in  "Tony's  camp,"  Mrs.  Dalziel  was  tired.  The 
sun  was  very  hot,  and  she  thought  she  ought  to  go  home 
to  poor  Milly.  Captain  March,  however,  was  certain 
that  what  I  ought  to  do  was  to  see  his  tent  before  desert 
ing  camp.  He  had  something  there  which  he  particularly 
wished  to  show  me.  Tony  volunteered  to  take  his  mother 
back  to  our  hired  automobile,  waiting  near  the  Zoo,  and  to 
return  for  me.  I  hoped  that  he  might  be  away  a  long  time, 
and  looked  forward  to  my  few  minutes  alone  with  Eagle  as 
to  a  taste  of  paradise,  having  no  idea  that  those  moments 
would  be  long  enough  to  decide  the  fate  of  two  men. 

The  camp  was  a  neat,  khaki-coloured  town  of  canvas 
houses,  big  and  little,  seemingly  countless  rows  of  them,  set 
in  rough  grass,  and  sandy  earth  of  the  same  yellow  brown 
as  the  tents.  How  the  officers  and  men  knew  their  narrow 
lanes  and  low-browed  dwellings  apart,  I  could  not  imagine, 
for  they  all  bore  the  most  remarkable  family  resemblance 
to  one  another  in  shape  and  feature,  except  those  which 
boasted  mosquito-net  draperies  to  keep  out  the  flies. 

Among  these  more  luxurious  soldier  houses  was  Eagle's. 
His  tent,  prepared  for  the  day,  consisted  of  a  canvas  wall 
with  a  wide-open  space  all  around,  between  it  and  the  roof; 
and  the  whole  internal  economy  was  ingenuously  open  to 
public  gaze.  Not  that  it  mattered,  for  everything  was  as 
neat  as  a  model  doll's  house:  the  narrow  bed,  the  patheti 
cally  meagre  toilet  arrangements,  the  one  chair,  the  small 


98  SECRET  HISTORY 

trunk  which  was  the  sole  wardrobe,  and  the  ridiculous  shav 
ing  mirror  stuck  up  on  a  pole,  above  a  miniature  arsenal. 

"I  should  think  you'd  cut  yourself  to  pieces,*'  said  I, 
giggling  impolitely  as  I  stood  on  tiptoe,  and  peered  into 
my  own  eyes  in  the  tiny  looking-glass.  "There  isn't  room 
to  see  more  than  half  a  feature  at  a  time.  I've  always  been 
glad  I  wasn't  a  man,  for  two  reasons:  because  I'd  hate  to 
have  to  shave,  or  to  marry  a  woman.  Both  are  horrid 
necessities." 

"That  depends  on  the  razor — and  the  woman,"  laughed 
Eagle.  "But  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  value  that  six-inch 
square  of  glass  more  than  any  of  my  other  possessions. 
It's  the  thing  I  expressly  wanted  to  show  you.  Stand 
back  a  minute,  Lady  Vanity,  and  you'll  see  why." 

I  stood  back.  Eagle  did  something  to  the  plain  dark 
frame  of  the  mirror,  which  had  a  gold  rim  inside.  Then  he 
pulled  out  the  glass  from  the  bottom,  and  there  instead, 
framed  in  black  and  gold,  was  a  photograph  of  Diana — 
a  lovely  photograph:  just  a  head,  lips  faintly  smiling, 
eyes  gazing  straight  at  you  and  saying  in  plain  eye 
language,  "I  love  you  dearly." 

I  had  never  seen  the  photograph  before,  and  seeing  it 
now  gave  me  a  strange  frightened  feeling,  as  if  I  had  found 
out  something  about  Diana  which  I  wasn't  supposed  to 
know.  It  was  such  an  intimate  portrait,  intended  to  be  re 
vealing,  yet  really  concealing !  I  felt  it  was  wicked  of  those 
beautiful  eyes  to  say  what  they  did  not  mean,  or,  perhaps, 
did  not  know  how  to  mean;  and  for  my  critical  stare,  behind 
that  "I  love  you,"  calculation  hid,  like  the  cold  glint  deep 
down  in  the  jewel  eyes  of  a  Persian  cat,  when  she  doesn't 
want  a  mouse  to  guess  that  she  knows  it  is  there. 


SECRET  HISTORY  99 

"Now  you  can  understand  why  I'm  glad  to  be  a  man," 
said  Eagle,  "in  spite  of — no,  because  of — well,  anyway  one 
of  the  two  'necessities'  you  think  so  'horrid,'  my  child. 
What  glory  to  be  chosen  out  of  all  the  rest  who  love  her  by 
such  a  woman !  And  I  hope  she  is  going  to  choose  me.  I 
don't  believe  she's  the  kind  of  girl  to  have  a  photograph 
like  that  taken  expressly  for  a  man,  if  she  didn't  feel  a  little 
of  what  the  picture  seems  to  say  she  feels,  do  you?  " 

I  suppose  men's  ignorance  of  what  she  is  at  heart  is  a 
Providence-given  suit  of  chain  armour  for  every  woman. 
But  I  wasn't  myself  sure  enough  yet  of  what  Di  might 
decide  to  do,  to  try  and  disturb  Eagle's  happy  confidence  in 
her.  So,  instead  of  answering  his  questions,  I  asked  him 
one:  "Did  she  have  that  photograph  taken  expressly  for 
you?" 

"Yes,"  Eagle  answered  triumphantly.  "I  don't  think 
she'd  mind  my  repeating  to  her  own  sister  that  she  told  me 
so,  or  that  there's  only  this  one  copy,  and  she  gave  orders  to 
have  the  negative  destroyed." 

He  had  hardly  got  these  words  out  of  his  mouth  when 
we  heard  footsteps,  and  Major  Vandyke  stopped  suddenly 
in  front  of  the  doorway.  In  an  instant,  Eagle  had  un 
hooked  the  frame  from  the  pole,  and  holding  the  face  of  the 
portrait  toward  his  breast,  quietly  slipped  the  mirror  into 
its  place  again,  as,  with  sang-froid  apparently  unruffled, 
he  called  out:  "Hullo,  Vandyke!  Have  you  come  to  see 
Lady  Peggy  or  me?  " 

"I  didn't  know  Lady  Peggy  was  here.  I  was  only 
passing  by,  on  my  way  to  the  colonel's,"  explained  Van- 
.dyke.  "But  seeing  her,  I  thought  I  might  be  allowed  to 
stop  and  say  ' how  do  you  do?'" 


100  SECRET  HISTORY 

He  spoke  rather  brusquely,  but  it  was  impossible  to  tell 
from  his  tone  whether  it  covered  anger  or  expressed  only 
the  coolness  which  had  grown  up  between  him  and  Captain 
March.  As  I  shook  hands  with  Major  Vandyke,  I  was 
asking  myself  anxiously  if  he  could  have  seen  the  photo 
graph  in  passing?  If  not — and  it  did  seem  as  if  Eagle's 
head  and  mine  ought  to  have  hidden  it  from  him — our  tell 
tale  words  would  have  meant  nothing  to  his  intelligence, 
even  if  he  had  overheard  them  as  he  came.  If,  however,  he 
had  snatched  a  glimpse  of  Diana's  face,  and  at  the  same  time 
caught  what  Eagle  said,  I  was  afraid  there  might  be  trouble. 
Provided  it  were  only  for  Di,  I  didn't  much  care,  because 
she  thoroughly  deserved  to  have  trouble,  and  it  would  give 
her  a  lesson;  but  something  warned  my  instinct  that  the 
consequences  might  spread  and  spread  until  others  suffered, 
as  a  ring  forever  widens  in  smooth  water  when  the  tiniest 
pebble  is  thrown. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

WE  WERE  still  skirmishing  on  the  outskirts  of 
conversation — What  did  I  think  of  a  soldier's 
out-of-door  quarters?  Why  hadn't  any  one  yet 
shown  me  the  great  sight,  the  concentration  camp?  when 
Tony  Dalziel  came  hurrying  up,  to  take  me  back  to  his 
mother  and  the  motor.  His  arrival  seemed  to  bring  relief 
from  strain.  It  was  like  a  brisk  breeze  blowing  away  the 
brooding  clouds  that  stifle  the  atmosphere  before  a  thunder 
storm.  I  dreaded  to  go  and  leave  those  two  men  together; 
but  when  Major  Vandyke  suggested  walking  with  us  to  the 
car,  and  asking  Mrs.  Dalziel  about  Milly,  my  heart  felt 
lighter.  We  stopped  only  long  enough  with  Eagle  to  ar 
range  a  visit  to  the  concentration  camp  for  next  morning, 
if  Milly  were  better,  and  then  Vandyke,  Tony,  and  I 
started  off. 

For  the  first  two  or  three  minutes  the  major  walked 
along  in  silence;  but  when  we  were  well  out  of  sight  of 
Eagle  March's  tent  he  interrupted  some  sentence  of  Tony's 
ruthlessly.  I  don't  think  he  was  even  aware  that  the 
other  was  speaking. 

"See  here,  Tony,  old  man,  will  you  do  me  a  favour?"  he 
asked  in  his  nicest  manner.  "There's  a  book  in  my  tent  I 
promised  to  give  Lady  Peggy,  to  read  aloud  to  Miss  Dalziel 
— a  jolly  good  story !  I  forgot  to  bring  it  out  when  I  came, 
and  I  don't  want  to  go  back  now  if  I  can  help  it,  because  a 

101 


SECRET  HISTORY 

party  of  bores  are  being  shown  round  in  that  direction, 
awful  people  I've  escaped  from.  You  don't  know  them,  so 
they  can't  hurt  you.  Will  you,  like  a  dear  chap,  cut  off 
and  grab  the  book?  It's  on  the  table;  you  can't  miss  it; 
purple  cover." 

Tony  obligingly  "cut,"  and  I  waited,  breathless,  for 
what  was  to  come,  knowing  now  without  being  told  that 
Sidney  Vandyke  had  seen  the  photograph.  He  had  not 
promised  me  a  book,  nor  mentioned  one. 

I  had  only  a  few  seconds  to  wait.  "Is  it  true  that  your 
sister  gave  March  the  picture  he  has  in  his  tent?"  he  de 
manded,  rather  than  asked. 

I  gasped,  doubtful  whether  it  would  be  wise  to  bring 
things  to  a  crisis,  or  better  to  try  and  keep  them  simmering. 
But  an  instant's  reflection  told  me  that  to  shilly-shally 
with  the  man  in  this  mood  would  make  what  was 
already  bad  far  worse.  "Yes,  she  gave  it  to  him,  of 
course,"  I  replied.  "I  think  you  must  have  overheard 
him  say  so." 

I  really  didn't  mean  to  put  emphasis  on  the  offending 
word,  but  Major  Vandyke  suspected  it.  Perhaps  the  cap 
fitted! 

"I  wasn't  eavesdropping,"  he  said.  "I  happened  to 
hear.  That's  a  very  different  thing  from  overhearing.  And 
I  have  a  right  to  ask  you  as  Diana's  sister,  Diana  herself 
not  being  on  the  spot,  to  give  me  an  explanation,  as  I'm 
sure  she  would  if  she  were  here.  Because  I  have  the  dupli 
cate  of  that  photo.  She  told  me  she'd  had  it  taken  for  me, 
and  the  negative  destroyed.  I  considered  it  sacred.  I 
would  have  shown  it  to  nobody." 

"I    am    nobody,"    said   I,    "nobody   except   Captain 


SECRET  HISTORY  103 

March's  friend,  to  whom  he  tells  things  he  wouldn't  tell  to 
others.  He  had  the  best  of  reasons  to  believe  I  was  in 
Diana's  confidence,  as  well  as  his.  And  as  for  the  photo 
graph,  it's  as  sacred  to  him  as  it  could  be  to  you,  Major 
Vandyke.  You  might  realize  that  from  the  clever  way  he 
has  thought  of,  to  hide  it;  and  no  person  who  wasn't 
absolutely  prying  could  have  recognized  it  in  passing  by  his 
tent.  He  knew  that  very  well,  or  he  wouldn't  have  un 
covered  the  picture  for  even  a  second." 

"  If  you  were  a  man,  you  wouldn't  dare  say  such  a  thing 
as  that  to  me,  Lady  Peggy." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  would,"  I  retorted,  "if  I  were  nearly  as  big  as 
you.  I'm  Captain  March's  friend,  not  yours;  and  I'm  not 
a  bit  afraid  to  be  your  enemy  if  you  are  his." 

"You  are  more  loyal  to  your  friend  than  to  your  own 
flesh  and  blood,"  he  flung  at  me.  "If  you  say  your  sister 
did  give  that  photograph  to  March,  you  make  her  out  a 
liar.  But  I  won't  believe  it  of  her.  I  prefer  to  believe  it 
of  March  instead." 

"  'Liar '  is  a  strong  word,"  I  temporized.  "  I  was  always 
taught  that  it  was  very  rude,  too.  You're  a  flirt,  Major 
Vandyke!  Every  one  says  that  of  you,  and  I  believe 
you're  proud  of  it.  So  you  ought  to  have  some  sympathy 
with  a  fellow  flirt,  like  Di.  If  any  one  must  be  blamed,  of 
course  it's  she,  not  Captain  March.  He  has  as  much  right 
to  accept  a  photograph  from  a  girl  as  you  have.  But  you 
needn't  be  too  angry  with  Di,  if  she  made  you  believe 
that  you  were  the  only  one,  when  she  was  doing  the  same 
thing  with  Captain  March.  Probably  she  didn't  'lie'  to 
either  of  you  in  so  many  words." 

"  It's  not  necessary  for  you  to  defend  Lady  Diana  to  me, 


104  SECRET  HISTORY 

I  assure  you,"  returned  Major  Vandyke.  "Whatever  she 
may  have  done,  I'm  ready  to  forgive  her,  if  she's  willing  to 
stand  by  me.  But  I  won't  have  March  swaggering  around 
and  boasting  that  she  gives  him  special  favours." 

"If  I  were  a  man  you  wouldn't  dare  say  that!"  I  burst 
out.  "When  you  talk  about  *  boasting,'  or  'swaggering,' 
you  must  be  judging  him  by  yourself,  for  you  are  always 
doing  both,  he  never.  I  believe  Di  likes  him  better  than 
she  does  you,  because  he's  a  sort  of  popular  hero  with  his 
flying,  and  you  have  nothing  except  your  flirting  and  your 
fortune  to  recommend  you  to  a  girl." 

If  only  I  hadn't  lost  my  head  and  thrown  that  taunt  at 
him!  I  suppose  I  shall  never  know  how  much  difference, 
or  how  little,  this  mistake  of  mine  made.  The  instant  the 
words  were  out  I  would  have  given  anything  to  recall  them. 
But  it  was  too  late.  To  apologize,  or  try  to  explain,  would 
only  do  more  harm.  I  ventured  one  sidelong  glance  at 
Major  Vandyke's  face  after  I  had  shot  that  bolt;  and  I 
quivered  all  over  as  I  saw  how  the  blood  streamed  darkly 
up  to  his  forehead  and  swelled  the  veins  at  his  temples.  If 
I  hadn't  been  afraid  of  him  for  Eagle,  whose  superior 
officer  he  was,  I  might  have  pitied  him  for  the  pain  I  had 
inflicted,  under  which  he  could  keep  silence  only  by  biting 
his  lip.  I  knew  he  was  hating  me  violently,  but  I  didn't 
care  a  rap.  All  I  cared  for  just  then  was  that  he  was 
hating  Eagle  March,  and  counting  on  paying  him  out  in 
some  way — I  couldn't  guess  what. 

"I  must  warn  Eagle,"  I  said  to  myself;  and  I  could 
almost  have  kissed  Tony,  I  was  so  glad  to  see  him  when 
he  came  back  with  the  purple-covered  book  which  nobody 
wanted. 


SECRET  HISTORY  105 

Major  Vandyke  walked  on  with  us  to  the  motor,  as  if 
nothing  had  happened,  but  he  was  very  silent,  letting  Tony 
and  me  talk  undisturbed.  It  was  only  after  he  had  spoken 
in  a  dry,  mechanical  way  to  Mrs.  Dalziel,  and  the  car  was 
about  to  start,  that  I  caught  his  eyes.  There  was  a  look  in 
them  as  cold  and  deadly — or  I  imagined  it — as  deliberate 
murder. 

I  couldn't  wait  until  next  day  to  see  Eagle  and  tell  him — 
I  hardly  knew  what,  but  something,  to  put  him  on  his 
guard.  He  had  said  that  he  was  engaged  to  lunch  with  a 
man  named  Donaldson  at  the  Hotel  Weldon,  and  it 
occurred  to  me  that  I  might  reach  him  there  by  telephone. 
At  a  little  before  one  o'clock,  I  called  up  the  hotel,  and 
inquired  if  Captain  March  had  arrived,  to  keep  an  appoint 
ment  with  Mr.  Donaldson.  The  answer  was  "yes";  and 
when  I  had  given  my  name,  I  was  asked  to' hold  the  line  for 
a  few  minutes,  until  Captain  March  should  come  to  the 
telephone. 

As  I  sat  with  the  receiver  at  my  ear,  waiting,  somebody 
began  to  talk  in  weird  Spanish — or  "Mex,"  as  I'd  heard  it 
nicknamed  in  El  Paso.  The  telephone  and  I  had  never 
been  intimate  friends  at  home,  and  I'd  practically  made  its 
acquaintance  since  coming  to  America,  so  I  scarcely  re 
alized  why  or  how  I  was  hearing  that  voice.  "Is  it  some 
one  trying  to  call  to  me?"  I  wondered  stupidly.  "Who 
knows  here,  except  Eagle,  that  I  speak  Spanish?"  Then, 
gradually,  it  dawned  on  me  that  I  had  "tapped"  a  con 
versation  going  on  between  persons  with  whom  I  had 
nothing  to  do.  Their  chatter  could  have  no  interest  for 
me,  even  if  it  were  excusable  to  listen,  but  I  didn't  drop  the 
receiver  lest  I  should  miss  Captain  March,  having  been  in- 


106  SECRET  HISTORY 

structed  to  hold  the  line  till  he  came.  I  couldn't  help  being 
vaguely  pleased,  too,  that  I  had  picked  up  enough  Spanish 
in  my  home  studies  to  understand  what  was  being  said. 
But  suddenly  my  silly  conceit  was  turned  into  horror.  I 
was  overhearing  (that  word  which  Major  Vandyke  had 
resented!)  a  plot  between  a  pair  of  Mexican  servants  to 
poison  the  American  families  who  employed  them. 

Two  women  were  talking  to  each  other,  rapidly, 
earnestly,  in  tones  of  such  agitation  as  they  hurried  on, 
that  only  for  the  first  instant  could  I  fancy  a  practical 
joke  was  being  played.  "You  got  the  stuff  safely?  Yes? 
Then  it  has  gone  round  among  those  who  will  do  the  work. 
Only  a  few  have  refused  to  come  in.  Those  who  eat  will 
not  die,  but  all  will  be  sick.  Then  the  men  cannot  fight 
our  men  if  they  come  across  the  river.  It  is  a  very  good 
plan  to  let  us  women  help  in  our  way.  Yet,  above  every 
thing,  there  must  be  no  mistake !  It  is  for  the  noon  meal  on 
Thursday,  but  only  if  we  are  sure  of  an  attack  for  that  night. 
We  should  be  lost  if  we  acted  too  soon.  I  am  the  one  to 
pass  the  word.  I  am  telling  one  after  another  to  wait 
until  it  comes  from  me,  by  telephone  or  in  some  other 
way." 

The  words  were  rattled  off  so  fast  that  I  could  catch  no 
more  than  half,  but  I  had  seized  enough  to  fill  up  the 
spaces  for  myself  when  the  voices  were  cut  off  into  silence, 
and  Eagle  March  called,  "Hello !  Is  that  you,  Peggy?  " 

"Yes,"  I  said.  "I  had  something  important  to  say  to 
you,  but  I've  heard  the  most  horrid  talk  going  on  over  the 
telephone.  I'm  afraid  it  may  mean  a  real  danger  for  El 
Paso.  I  daren't  tell  you  about  it  on  the  wire.  Do  let  me 
see  you !  I  must !  Can  you  possibly  take  a  taxi  and  rush 


SECRET  HISTORY  107 

over  here  now,  or  shall  I  go  to  you?     I'll  do  that  if  you 
can't  come  to  me." 

"  I'll  come  to  you,  of  course,"  answered  Eagle.  "  I'll  ex 
cuse  myself  to  Donaldson,  and  be  with  you  in  five  minutes." 

"Good;  in  the  hall,"  I  said.  "I'll  run  down  now  and 
wait  for  you." 

Mrs.  Dalziel  and  I  were  to  lunch  in  Milly's  room,  to  keep 
her  company  and  tell  her  all  the  news;  but  the  meal  wasn't 
due  yet  for  half  an  hour,  so  there  was  plenty  of  time  before 
my  hostess  should  come  knocking  at  the  door.  I  had  just 
found  a  quiet  place  in  the  corner  of  the  big  marble  hall,  and 
annexed  a  sofa  for  two,  when  I  saw  Eagle  walk  in.  He  was 
looking  for  me.  I  beckoned,  and  he  came  to  me  with  long 
strides.  It  would  be  hard  to  tell  why,  but  never  had  I 
loved  him  so  well  as  at  that  moment.  I  did  not  see  how  I 
was  going  to  bear  a  whole,  long  life  without  having  him  in 
it. 

When  he  had  sat  down  by  my  side,  I  told  him  quickly 
what  I  had  overheard,  and  how.  The  moment  he  had  got 
the  pith  of  the  story  he  jumped  up,  looking  preoccupied 
and  anxious.  "I  must  go  at  once,"  he  said,  "before  the 
girls  at  the  telephone  exchange  have  time  to  forget  the 
numbers  of  those  who've  called  and  been  called  up  in 
the  last  twenty  minutes  or  so.  We  may  be  able  to  catch 
the  ringleader  in  that  way,  and  get  from  her  the  names  of 
every  one  in  the  plot — if  it's  a  genuine  plot;  and  I  agree 
with  you  that  it  looks  rather  like  it.  Peggy,  your  fad  for 
studying  languages  and  your  quick  wits  may  have  saved 
El  Paso  from  something  at  the  least  unpleasant." 

"Oh,  I  hope  so!"  I  cried.  "And  the  women  talked 
about  some  'attack!'  Don't  forget  that." 


108  SECRET  HISTORY 

"No  fear! "  he  almost  laughed.  "Now  I  must  go.  You 
may  be  asked  some  questions  later  on.  I  hope  you  won't 
much  mind." 

I  shook  my  head.  "What  does  it  matter?  But,  oh, 
Eagle !  I  cannot  let  you  go  until  I've  told  you  what  I  rang 
you  up  for.  Major  Vandyke  saw  Di's  picture,  and  heard 
what  we  said.  And  he's  furious,  because  it  seems  she  gave 
him  a  photograph — something  like  yours.  I  don't  quite 
know  what  he  thinks,  but  he's  more  angry  with  you  than 
with  her,  and  I  believe  he'll  try  to  get  even  with  you  in 
some  way .  Look  out  for  him ! ' ' 

" I  will ! "  This  time  he  laughed  outright.  "And  I  don't 
think  he  will  be  able  to  frighten  me  into  giving  up  Diana 
— if  she'll  have  me.  Good-bye,  dear,  and  thank  you  for 
everything,  with  all  my  heart.  You're  my  good  angel!" 

" How  I  wish  I  could  be ! "  I  sighed.  But  he  heard  neither 
sigh  nor  words.  He  had  hurried  away  and  into  his  waiting 
taxi. 


CHAPTER  IX 

UNLUCKILY,  nothing  could  be  proved  through 
the  telephone  people,  though  there  was  certain 
circumstantial  evidence  against  one  or  two  Mexi 
can  women,  as  I  heard  through  Eagle  March.  But  Ameri 
can  families  who  employed  Mexicans  were  privately 
informed  of  the  existence  of  a  possible  plot  against  them, 
and  consequently  a  number  of  Mexican  servants  in  El 
Paso  were  thrown  out  of  employment  at  an  hour's  notice. 
The  authorities  did  all  they  could  to  keep  any  report 
out  of  the  papers,  but,  of  course,  did  not  succeed,  and 
the  "extras"  had  choice  tit-bits  of  sensation  for  that  after  ^ 
noon.  The  mysterious  threat  of  an  impending  raid  was 
enlarged  upon,  too,  and  to  calm  the  public,  as  well  as 
impress  "the  other  side  of  the  river,"  it  was  decided  to 
have  a  great  parade  of  troops  through  the  town.  A  day 
was  settled  upon  to  be  called  "Army  Day  ";  but  meanwhile, 
precautions  were  taken  to  guard  against  any  "surprise 
coup,"  such  as  had  been  carried  out  across  the  Rio  Grande 
at  Juarez  by  a  few  Constitutionalists  against  Federals, 
one  night  some  months  before. 

The  crowds  who  had  been  out  to  stare  at  the  concentra 
tion  camp,  peopled  with  dark-faced  thousands  of  men, 
women,  and  children,  trailed  in  procession  as  near  as  they 
were  allowed  to  approach  the  £e#i  guns  placed  on  a  bare, 
brown  eminence  whence  their  long  noses  pointed  grimly 

109 


110  SECRET  HISTORY 

across  the  river.  There  were  six  of  these  guns  the  day  I 
saw  them,  all  guns  of  Captain  March's  battery;  but  owing 
to  their  alignment,  and  the  position  of  El  Paso's  few  sky 
scrapers  between  this  hill  and  the  river,  only  four  of  the 
guns  would  threaten  destruction  to  any  buildings  in  the 
town,  in  case  the  artillery  had  to  be  brought  into  action. 

The  other  two  could  be  fired  in  the  unlikely  event  of  a 
disturbance,  it  was  believed,  without  danger  to  American 
property.  I  heard  this,  with  lots  of  other  exciting  details  of 
the  preparations  going  on,  from  Tony  Dalziel,  who  thought 
— whether  rightly  or  wrongly — that  he  could  chat  to  me 
on  the  one  great  subject  of  interest  without  indiscretion. 
He  told  me  among  other  things,  that  if  fire  had  to  be 
opened  on  Juarez,  just  across  the  river,  he  understood  from 
talk  he  heard  that  these  two  comparatively  innocuous  guns 
would  alone  be  used  at  first.  If  the  damage  they  did  on 
the  opposite  side  were  enough  to  force  the  enemy  to  capit 
ulate  in  haste,  the  other  four  guns  would  remain  silent, 
and  El  Paso  intact.  But,  said  Tony  (and  his  fellow 
officers  said  the  same),  in  spite  of  the  persistent  rumour  of  a 
raid,  it  was  almost  certain  now  that  there  would  be  no 
trouble.  It  was  whispered  that  because  Americans  had 
given  sanctuary  to  Federal  troops  in  flight,  and  for  other 
reasons  not  so  widely  known,  General  Carranza  had 
wanted  to  organize  an  attack  on  the  United  States  frontier 
across  the  Rio  Grande,  temptingly  shrunken  by  a  long 
drought;  but  it  was  reported  at  the  same  time  that  General 
Villa  had  forcibly  opposed  the  suggestion,  and  it  was  very 
improbable  that  any  serious  attempt  would  be  made  to 
carry  it  out. 

It  was  Tuesday  when  I  gave  the  alarm  of  the  poison  plot, 


SECRET  HISTORY  111 

and  Thursday  was  the  day  gossip  suggested  for  a  raid. 
Nevertheless,  the  people  were  no  longer  nervous.  They 
felt  a  joyful  confidence  in  the  troops  who  had  been  sent  to 
reinforce  the  garrison  at  Fort  Bliss,  and  even  the  most 
bloodcurdling  newspaper  headlines  had  at  length  lost  much 
of  their  gruesomeness. 

By  this  time  Milly  Dalziel  was  as  well  as  ever  once  more, 
and  using  her  regained  health  to  make  a  "dead  set"  at 
Eagle  March.  (I  shouldn't  tell  this  of  her,  if  what  she  did 
later  hadn't  influenced  events  in  a  strange,  dramatic  way.) 
She  couldn't  let  Eagle  alone;  and  she  showed  her  feelings 
so  plainly — as  a  very  rich  girl  sometimes  thinks  she  may  do 
with  a  comparatively  poor  man — that  even  Eagle  himself, 
despite  his  lack  of  self-conceit  and  his  preoccupation  with 
thoughts  of  Di,  couldn't  help  understanding.  He  kept  out 
of  Milly 's  way  as  often  as  he  could,  but  she  attributed  this 
retirement  to  the  calls  of  duty ;  and  at  last  began  to  behave 
so  foolishly  that  for  her  own  sake  he  gently  snubbed 
her. 

Poor  Milly  Dalziel  had  not  her  pretty,  bright  red  hair  for 
nothing.  Her  impulsive  emotions,  which  she  concealed 
badly,  and  her  fiery  temper  were  its  natural  accompani 
ments.  When  it  burst  upon  her  that  Eagle  March  did  not 
admire  her  as  she  admired  him,  and  thought  it  best  she 
should  realize  this  once  for  all,  she  suffered  a  wild  reaction 
of  feeling.  From  being  slavishly,  ridiculously  in  love,  she 
flew  to  the  other  extreme;  and  after  an  embarrassing  little 
scene,  in  which  Eagle  firmly  avoided  her,  she  broke  out  to 
me  in  hysterical  abuse  of  him.  He  was  rude;  he  was  "no 
gentleman" ;  and  she  didn't  see  how  I  could  make  a  friend  of 
such  an  ungracious  brute.  The  one  thing  he  could  do  was 


SECRET  HISTORY 

to  fly,  and  she  only  wished  he  would  fly — far  away,  and 
never  be  seen  again. 

I  was  too  sorry  for  the  girl  to  resent  as  I  ought  to  have 
resented  her  childish  but  mean  abuse.  I  knew,  only  too 
well,  how  much  it  hurt  to  be  in  love  with  Eagle  March,  and 
not  to  have  him  care  an  American  red  cent  in  return.  I  let 
Milly  talk  for  a  while,  and  then  tried  to  soothe  her  down, 
saying  that  she  would  feel  differently  about  everything 
next  day.  This  was  the  signal  for  the  girl  to  turn  on  me, 
which  she  did  so  ferociously  that  I  began  to  fear  I  must 
find  an  excuse  to  cut  my  visit  short.  I  wanted  to  stay;  I 
had  very  little  money  for  travelling,  and  I  was  sure  Father 
would  send  funds  with  reluctance,  especially  as  he  no  doubt 
hoped  that  Tony  and  I  would  after  all  come  together.  With 
Di  and  me  both  safely  disposed  of  to  rich  husbands,  he 
would  be  free  to  marry  Kitty  Main,  or  do  anything  he 
pleased.  With  this-  thought  in  my  mind,  the  situation 
looked  rather  desperate,  and  that  night — Thursday  night 
— I  was  lying  awake  to  wonder  what  I  could  do,  when 
suddenly  the  night  silence  which  falls  on  lively  El  Paso 
after  twelve  was  broken  with  the  noise  of  a  tremendous  ex 
plosion.  m 

The  huge  bulk  of  the  hotel  quivered,  as  if  struck  with  a 
Titan's  hammer,  and  it  must  have  been  the  same  with  every 
other  building  in  town.  I  jumped  out  of  bed  mechanically, 
not  knowing  what  I  did.  'Only  my  body  acted.  For  an 
instant  my  brain  was  dazed — connection  cut  off.  The  first 
thing  I  really  knew,  I  found  myself  standing  at  the  open 
window  clinging  to  the  curtains.  "What  is  it?  What  is 
it?"  I  was  stammering  out  aloud.  And  before  I  could  get 
any  answer  from  within,  again  came  the  same  appalling 


SECRET  HISTORY  113 

sound.  With  that,  as  if  a  second  shock  could  restore  the 
senses  stolen  by  the  one  preceding,  I  guessed  that  what  I 
had  heard  must  be  gunfiring  on  the  hill. 

"  The  raid  has  come,  then,  after  all ! "  I  thought,  with  awe 
rather  than  fear;  and  thousands  of  other  people  must  have 
been  thinking  the  same  thought  at  the  same  moment. 

It  was  a  clear,  starry  night,  the  sky  glittering  like  a  blue, 
spangled  robe  that  scintillates  with  the  motion  of  a  dancer, 
and  the  electric  lamps  of  the  city  below  lighting  the 
streets  as  brightly  as  if  the  moon  were  up.  When  I  first 
reached  the  high  window  and  stared  down  from  it,  I  had 
the  impression  that  those  streets  were  empty,  but  im 
mediately  after  the  second  shot  and  its  reverberating  echo, 
dark  figures  began  swarming  out.  Heads  appeared  in  every 
visible  window  of  the  hotel.  Electricity  was  switched  on 
in  darkened  rooms,  and  women  showed  themselves  in  their 
nightgowns,  with  hair  streaming  over  their  shoulders,  or 
hair  lamentably  absent,  careless  whether  they  were  seen  or 
not.  I  heard  screaming  and  shouting,  and  then  all  such 
small  sounds  were  swallowed  up  in  another  roar — the  third. 

My  thoughts  flew  to  Eagle.  If  there  were  a  raid  he 
would  be  in  danger.  He  might  be  killed,  and  I  should 
never  see  him  again.  I  didn't  think  at  the  minute  what 
might  happen  to  the  rest  of  us.  Nothing  and  no  one  seemed 
to  matter  except  Eagle.  Still  only  half  conscious  of  what 
I  did,  unable  to  decide  what  might  be  best  to  do,  I  dropped 
on  my  knees  to  pray  that  Eagle  might  be  safe.  But  I  had 
only  just  begun  to  stammer  out  my  appeal  when  there 
came  a  sharp  tapping  at  the  door.  "  Let  us  in — let  us  in ! " 
Milly's  voice  cried,  and  Mrs.  Dalziel  quaveringly  repeated 
the  same  words. 


114  SECRET  HISTORY 

I  shot  back  the  bolt,  and  the  two  in  their  nightgowns 
almost  fell  into  the  room.  Milly,  crying,  seized  me  in  her 
arms  and  begged  me  to  forgive  her  for  all  her  unkindness 
to  me.  We  should  probably  be  dead  in  a  few  minutes  or 
hours,  and  she  wanted  to  die  at  peace.  As  she  faltered 
on,  Mrs.  Dalziel  sobbed  that  Tony  would  be  killed,  and 
their  fears  made  me  brave.  I  was  suddenly  convinced 
that  there  had  been  no  raid  and  said  so.  "I'm  sure  there's 
nothing  to  be  afraid  of,"  I  insisted  stoically.  "Remember, 
we've  heard  only  three  cannon  shots,  or  sounds  like  shots. 
There'd  be  constant  firing  if  there  had  been  a  Mexican  sur 
prise.  And  there  couldn't  have  been  a  'surprise'  after  all 
the  warnings  we  had.  Anyhow,  a  handful  of  Mexicans 
wouldn't  dare,  with  all  those  troops  and  guns  on  the  spot." 

"But  what  can  have  happened  if  it  isn't  an  attack?" 
wailed  Mrs.  Dalziel.  "If  only  my  son  were  here!" 

"Did  the  shots  come  from  our  side  of  the  river,  or  the 
other?"  Milly  asked,  speaking  more  to  herself  than  to 
me,  for  one  was  as  ignorant  on  the  subject  as  the  other. 
"7  couldn't  tell  for  sure,  could  you?" 

"No,"  I  said.  "I  hadn't  thought  of  the  other  side.  I 
just  took  it  for  granted  it  was  our  own  guns  firing  for  some 
reason  or  other." 

"But  what  reason?"  persisted  Milly.  "Why  should 
they  fire  three  shots  in  the  dead  of  the  night,  and  then 
stop?" 

"Perhaps  it's  manoeuvres,  or  a  firing  drill,  or  something," 
I  hazarded  weakly,  feeling  all  the  time  that  it  was  nothing 
of  the  sort. 

"Perhaps,"  Mrs.  Dalziel  and  Milly  both  agreed,  looking 
a  little  relieved  by  my  silly  supposition. 


SECRET  HISTORY  115 

"Shall  we  hurry  up  and  dress  ourselves  and  go  down 
stairs?"  I  suggested.  "See  what  a  lot  of  people  are  in 
the  streets.  The  whole  town's  surprised  out  of  its  wits, 
and  wild  to  know  what's  happened.  Why  shouldn't  we 
know,  too?" 

"Oh,  yes,  let's  go  down,"  cried  Milly.  "By  this  time 
Therese  is  certain  to  be  in  mother's  room,  in  hysterics 
and  nothing  else !  We'll  make  her  stop  and  drape  herself 
juTa  blanket  and  dress  us." 

"Thank  goodness  I  can  dress  myself,  and  in  five  min 
utes,"  I  said.  They  went  hesitatingly  out,  forgetting  to 
close  my  door,  and  before  I  could  do  so  myself  I  heard 
Therese's  voice  across  the  hall. 

I  didn't  stop  to  put  up  my  hair,  but  let  it  hang  down  my 
back;  I  didn't  even  tie  my  shoes,  or  fasten  more  than  three 
hooks  of  my  easiest  blouse :  one  at  the  top,  one  in  the  middle, 
and  one  at  the  waist.  Consequently,  I  was  ready  before 
the  Dalziels,  but  waited  for  them  outside  the  door  of  their 
suite,  almost  dazedly  watching  people — men  and  women, 
half  clothed — dashing  out  of  their  rooms  toward  the 
stairs  and  elevators.  Some  of  these  were  jabbering  to 
each  other,  but  nobody  seemed  to  know  what  had  hap 
pened.  They  were  merely  wondering,  as  we  were;  and  in 
the  big  hall,  where  some  of  the  lights  had  been  switched  on, 
we  could  glean  no  further  details.  Several  of  the  hotel 
employes  had  arrived  on  the  scene,  more  or  less  dressed, 
and  they  did  what  they  could  to  calm  their  guests.  Pres 
ently  one  of  the  managers  appeared,  and  he  strongly  ad 
vised  every  one  to  remain  in  the  hotel.  If  any  trouble 
were  afoot,  it  would  be  safer  indoors  than  out,  and  news 
might  be  expected  soon.  He  had  already  sent  a  trust- 


116  SECRET  HISTORY 

worthy  messenger,  he  explained,  to  inquire  of  the  police, 
and  the  answer  would  be  more  reliable  than  mere  wild 
gossip  picked  up  in  the  street,  among  the  crowd. 

Some  of  the  older  men,  and  all  the  women,  took  the 
manager's  advice,  though  a  good  many  young  men  disre 
garded  it,  and  went  off  foraging  for  news.  Those  of  us 
who  remained  in  the  house,  however,  didn't  think  of 
meekly  returning  to  our  rooms.  We  herded  together  in 
the  hall  of  the  hotel,  in  a  fever  of  expectation,  strangers 
hobnobbing  like  old  acquaintances  and  exchanging  opin 
ions  on  the  mysterious  alarm.  The  time  of  waiting  seemed 
long;  but  we  three  had  not  been  below  more  than  twenty 
minutes,  perhaps,  when  people  who  had  been  out  began 
to  stream  back  with  tidings  of  a  sort  for  their  families. 
No  two  men  had  quite  the  same  story  to  tell.  One  had 
heard  that  a  band  of  Apaches  from  a  low  quarter  of  the 
town  had  organized  a  scare  to  stir  up  the  military.  An 
other  had  been  told  on  good  authority  that  the  Mexicans 
had  fired  guns  from  across  the  river  and  injured  one  of  the 
tall  buildings  in  El  Paso,  nobody  knew  which.  A  third 
assured  everybody  that  our  guns  had  been  fired,  but 
charged  only  with  blank,  to  frighten  the  Mexicans,  at  the 
moment  when  they  hoped  to  give  us  a  surprise.  By  and 
by,  the  messenger  dispatched  by  the  manager  came  back; 
but  he  had  little  new  light  to  throw  on  the  situation,  ex 
cept  to  assure  every  one  on  the  authority  of  the  police 
that  there  had  been  no  raid,  and  there  was  no  danger  of 
any  kind  for  the  town.  Accordingly,  the  best  thing  for  its 
inhabitants  to  do  would  be  to  go  to  bed  again. 

Very  few,  however,  seemed  inclined  to  take  this  advice. 
Mrs.  Dalziel  might  have  done  so  had  Milly  and  I  con- 


SECRET  HISTORY  117 

sented;  but  I  had  an  idea  that  Tony  would  come  to  the 
hotel,  if  possible,  sooner  or  later,  expecting  us  to  be  anxious. 
I  was  right,  for  in  an  hour,  or  not  much  more,  while  we 
all  sat  munching  sandwiches,  hastily  provided,  the  famil 
iar  plump  figure  in  khaki  stalked  into  the  hall.  Milly 
and  I  both  sprang  up,  and  Tony  directed  himself  toward 
us;  but  before  he  came  near  enough  to  speak,  I  knew  that 
something  really  terrible  had  happened.  Whether  he 
meant  to  tell  us  the  truth  or  not  was  another  question. 
The  jolly,  round-faced  boy  seemed  to  have  lost  the  charac 
teristics  I  associated  most  closely  with  him;  and  when  a 
a  youth  with  comical  features  of  the  Billiken  type  is  sud 
denly  fitted  with  a  tragic  mask,  the  effect  is  somehow  more 
alarming  than  any  look  of  distress  on  a  serious  face. 

He  tried  to  grin,  as  his  mother  greeted  him  like  one  re 
turning  from  the  dead.  "Why,  mater,"  he  said,  "any 
one'd  think  to  see  and  hear  you  that  I'd  been  blown  to 
smithereens,  and  this  was  my  ghost.  You'll  laugh,  I 
guess,  when  I  tell  you  what  really  happened.  I  got  leave 
to  make  a  dash  and  put  you  out  of  your  misery."  When 
he  had  gone  so  far,  he  stopped,  and  swallowed.  He 
looked  sick,  and  all  the  more  so  because  of  the  Billiken  grin 
which  he  was  afraid  to  let  drop.  His  eyes  wandered  from 
his  mother  to  me,  and  I  saw  pain  in  them.  I  felt  for  the 
first  time  that  little  Tony  was  a  grown-up  man. 

"  Well— well?  "  Milly  urged  him  sharply.  "  Why  don't 
you  tell  us?" 

"I'm  a  bit  out  of  breath,"  her  brother  excused  himself. 
"  I  hiked  over  here  pretty  fast — borrowed  a  bicycle.  Give 
me  a  second  to  get  my  wind  back,  sis." 

But  this  was  more  than  Milly  could  do.     "Weren't  you 


118  SECRET  HISTORY 

with  the  guns  to-night?"  she  asked.  "You  said  you  were 
going  to  be." 

"Did  I  say  that?  Well,  I  was.  But— but  the  row  you 
all  heard  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  guns,  you  know.  At 
least,  nothing  directly.  It  was — the  ammunition;  an  acci 
dent,  you  see.  One  of  our  chaps  dropped  a  lighted  match, 
and  it  set  fire  to  part  of  our  train  of  ammunition.  Three 
shells  burst,  but — but  nobody  was  hurt — except " 

"Except  who?"  Milly  had  to  break  in  before  Tony 
could  go  on.  I  said  nothing  at  all.  I  only  looked  at  him. 
But  after  that  first  glance  he  kept  his  eyes  away  from  me, 
I  believed  purposely. 

"Except  an  orderly  of — one  of  the  officers,  and — oh, 
very  slightly  indeed — March.  He's  hardly  hurt  at  all, 
but — you  mustn't  be  surprised  if  you  don't  see  him  around 
for  the  next  few  days." 

The  blood  rushed  up  to  Milly 's  pale  face,  but  she  pressed 
her  lips  together  almost  viciously,  and  forced  herself  not 
to  speak.  Her  green-gray  eyes  flashed  out  one  distress 
signal,  then  seemed  to  shut  it  off  deliberately  and  coldly. 

"Captain  March!"  exclaimed  kind  Mrs.  Dalziel,  with 
real  distress.  "Oh,  I'm  so  sorry  that  he  should  be  hurt!" 

"So  are  we  all,"  Tony  responded;  and  voice  and  face 
would  have  told  me,  if  I  hadn't  guessed  before,  that  he 
was  either  keeping  back  something  of  grave  importance, 
or  else  carefully  lying. 

"Will  he  really  be  all  right  again  in  a  few  days?"  the 
dear  little  lady  went  on. 

"Er — perhaps  not  all  right,  but — nothing  to  worry 
about,"  said  Tony,  with  lumbering  cheerfulness.  "He's  in 
no  danger  of  death,  anyhow,  that's  one  good  thing." 


SECRET  HISTORY  119 

"What  about  Major  Vandyke?"  I  heard  myself  say; 
and  even  as  the  question  came,  I  wondered  why  I  should 
have  thought  of  it  in  that  connection.  But  somehow  it 
would  out,  and  only  my  subconscious  self,  far  down  in 
mysterious  depths,  knew  the  reason. 

"Oh,  Major  Vandyke!  Why,  as  it  happens,  he  went 
over  to  the  other  side  of  the  river  in  his  motor  car — on 
business." 

A  flame  of  suspicion  in  me  was  lit  by  that  match. 

"To  Mexico!"  I  exclaimed.  "But  I  was  told  only  this 
very  day,  by  Captain  March,  that  no  officer  or  soldier  was 
allowed  to  cross  the  river  on  any  pretext  whatever." 

"That  was — is — so,  in  an  ordinary  way,"  Tony  ad 
mitted,  swallowing  heavily  again.  "But  you  see  that 
fearful  row  on  the  hill  where  the  guns  are  might — must 
have  set  a  hornet's  nest  buzzing  over  there.  The  chaps 
were  likely  to  think  we  were  potting  at  them — out  of  a 
clear  sky,  and — er — they  might  have  begun  potting  back 
at  us  in  a  minute  or  two,  in  their  excitement.  So,  to 
save  the  situation,  Vandyke  scooted  across  with  only  his 
orderly — who's  his  chauffeur,  too — in  his  own  car  with 
some  sort  of  white  flag  rigged  up  in  a  jiffy.  I  expect  he'll 
get  a  lot  of  credit  for  that  dash  when  the  story — I  mean 
the  facts,  are  out." 

"It  was  a  brave  thing  to  do!"  cried  Mrs.  Dalziel,  al 
ways  delighted  to  praise  any  one.  "He  must  have  risked 
his  life." 

"Yes,"  said  Tony,  "no  doubt  of  that.  The  Mexican 
bridge  sentries  might  have  fired  on  him  in  spite  of  the  white 
flag.  They — they  did  fire,  I  believe.  But  Vandyke's  all 
right,  anyhow." 


120  SECRET  HISTORY 

"You  speak  as  if  some  one  wasn't."  I  heard  myself 
talking,  though  I  seemed  not  to  have  spoken  the  words 
deliberately. 

"Only  the  orderly,  poor  chap.  He  was  driving  the  car. 
I  guess  the  sentries  saw  him  before  they  saw  the  white 
flag." 

"They  shot  him?" 

"Yes,  unfortunately  they  did."  Tony's  voice  broke  a 
little,  and  that  struck  me  as  odd;  for  he  could  not  have 
had  any  personal  interest,  it  seemed,  in  Major  Vandyke's 
chauffeur-orderly. 

"I  hope  they  didn't  kill  the  poor  fellow?"  purred  Mrs. 
Dalziel. 

"I  don't  think  he's  dead  yet,  mater,  but  I'm  afraid  he's 
past  speaking.  They  got  him  in  the  lungs." 

"Major  Vandyke's  come  back,  then,"  I  said. 

"Oh,  yes,  he  was  back  in  less  than  an  hour,  after  a  parley 
over  there,  explaining  everything  and  making  the  Consti 
tutionalists  understand  we  weren't  meaning  them  any 
harm.  I  didn't  get  leave  to  see  you  till  just  after  he  had 
brought  his  car  and  his  wounded  orderly  over  to  this  side 
again.  And  now,  if  your  minds  are  calmed  down,  I'll  be 
off.  I've  told  you  no  secrets.  Everything  I've  said  the 
papers  will  repeat  to-morrow.  But  all  the  same,  please 
don't  talk  to  any  one  about  this  business.  Promise, 
mater,  and  Milly.  And  I  guess  I  don't  need  to  ask  you, 
Lady  Peggy.  Now,  good-bye.  I'll  see  you  as  early  as  I 
can  in  the  morning." 

He  kissed  his  mother,  patted  Milly  on  the  arm,  and  gave 
my  hand  such  a  shake  that  I  should  have  writhed  if  I 
had  worn  any  rings.  For  once,  instead  of  lingering,  he  had 


SECRET  HISTORY  121 

the  air  of  being  glad  to  escape  from  us,  but  on  an  impulse 
I  followed  him  to  the  door  and  called  him  back  just  as  he 
had  reached  the  threshold. 

"  Tony ! "  I  began.  He  turned  with  a  start,  and  stopped. 
I  had  often  been  invited,  but  had  never  before  consented, 
to  call  him  Tony. 

"I  want  to  ask  you  something  before  you  go,"  I  said. 

He  gave  me  a  queer,  apprehensive  look.    "  Please  don't ! ' ' 

"Then  I'll  tell  you  something,  instead.  There  isn't 
one  word  of  truth  in  your  story  about  what  happened. 
You've  been  making  it  all  up." 

"That's  where  you're  mistaken,"  he  contradicted  me. 
"I  haven't  made  it  up." 

"If  not,  somebody  made  it  up  for  you,  and  you've  been 
ordered  to  put  the  story  round.  This  is  what  people  are 
to  believe,  the  version  that  the  papers  will  be  given.  But 
it's  no  use  giving  it  to  me.  I  don't  believe  it.  So  there ! " 

"It's  all  I've  got  to  say,  and  even  you  won't  get  a  dif 
ferent  word  out  of  me,"  he  said  despairingly.  "You  al 
ways  did  have  a  wonderful  imagination,  Lady  Peggy,  but 
whatever  you  may  think,  for  God's  sake  don't  blab  to 
any  one  else,  unless  to  me;  and  I'd  rather  you  wouldn't 
even  to  me.  I  tell  you,  I'm  pretty  near  all  in." 

I  let  him  go,  but  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  not 
be  put  off  with  the  story  which  papers  and  public  were  to 
get.  I  would  know  the  truth,  and  exactly  what  had  hap 
pened  to  Eagle  March. 


CHAPTER  X 

IT  WAS  just  as  Tony  had  said  it  would  be:  the  news 
papers  next  day  repeated  his  story.  Very  few  clear 
details  were  given.  The  articles  with  their  spread- 
eagle  headlines  concerned  themselves  more — for  a 
wonder — with  effect  than  cause.  They  told  at  length 
and  dramatically  how  El  Paso  had  been  aroused  in  the 
dead  of  night  by  bomblike  explosions  which,  many  had 
taken  for  granted,  came  from  the  guns  on  the  hill,  repelling 
or  revenging  a  raid  from  the  other  side.  They  told  how 
the  public  had  behaved,  and  described  the  relief  felt  when 
it  had  been  definitely  learned  on  good  authority  that  the 
alarm  was  due  to  an  accident  with  some  ammunition. 
But  about  the  accident  itself  there  was  what  struck  me  as 
a  singular  reticence,  considering  the  wild  conjectures  news 
papers  did  not  hesitate  to  print  on  other  subjects.  Their 
piece  de  resistance  was  the  magnificent  courage  and  pres 
ence  of  mind  displayed  by  Major  Sidney  Vandyke  of  the 
— th  Artillery,  whose  battery  had  been  concerned  in  the 
incident. 

I  sent  for  all  the  El  Paso  papers,  which  were  brought  to 
me  before  I  was  up,  very  early  in  the  morning;  and  I  sat 
in  bed  studying,  in  one  after  the  other  of  them,  the  version 
of  last  night's  strange  affair.  Somehow,  the  general  praise 
of  Sidney  Vandyke's  exploit  annoyed  me  intensely,  as  one 
is  annoyed  when  an  undeserving  person  is  ignorantly 

1ft* 


SECRET  HISTORY  123 

lauded  to  the  skies.  I  know  that  on  the  face  of  things  I 
had  no  right  to  say  that  he  was  "undeserving,"  in  this 
case;  but  that  instinctive  rebellion  in  me  against  Tony's 
story  last  night  cried  out  against  it  now.  "There's  some 
thing  queer  under  it  all,"  I  kept  telling  myself.  "I  must 
find  out  what  it  is,  and  I  must  know  about  Eagle." 

Concerning  Captain  March,  the  papers  had  very  little 
to  say.  They  understood  that  he  had  been  on  the  spot 
when  the  explosion  had  occurred,  and  that  he  had  received 
slight  injuries  which  would  prevent  him  from  carrying 
on  his  military  duties  for  some  time  to  come.  All  their 
attention  was  bestowed  upon  Major  Vandyke,  who  had 
made  himself  the  hero  of  what  was  called  "El  Paso's  Big 
Night."  Owing  to  the  indisposition  of  the  colonel,  who 
had  been  struck  down  in  the  morning  by  a  touch  of 
the  sun,  Major  Vandyke  was  temporarily  in  command. 
His  private  automobile,  which  had  followed  him  from 
Alvarado  to  El  Paso,  had  brought  him  from  new  Fort  Bliss 
to  old  Fort  Bliss  on  official  business :  and  he  was  on  his  way 
back  when,  hearing  sounds  which  resembled  gunfire,  he 
had  stopped  his  chauffeur  on  the  instant,  and  dashed  on  fast 
up  the  artillery  hill,  near  which  he  happened  to  be.  Fear 
ing  that  the  Mexicans — already  restless,  owing  to  the  atti 
tude  of  the  United  States  at  Vera  Cruz  and  other  places, 
and  to  the  arrival  of  reinforcements  along  the  Rio  Grande 
— might  misunderstand,  and  work  some  mad,  irreparable 
mischief,  Major  Vandyke  and  his  orderly  had  made  a 
dash  across  the  river.  In  spite  of  the  white  flag  used  to 
protect  the  car  and  its  occupants,  the  sentinels  on  guard 
upon  the  Mexican  side  had  fired  at  the  sight  of  men  in 
uniform,  and  the  orderly  had  been  shot.  Otherwise,  the 


124  SECRET  HISTORY 

errand  so  bravely  undertaken  had  been  crowned  with  suc 
cess.  The  Mexicans,  thinking  they  had  been  fired  at, 
were  about  to  discharge  their  own  field  guns,  placed  in  a 
position  of  offence,  in  answer  to  the  menace  of  the  United 
States.  Had  Major  Vandyke  been  five  minutes  later  with 
his  diplomatic  intervention  the  word  would  have  been 
given  to  fire,  and  one  or  more  of  El  Paso's  finest  buildings 
might  have  been  destroyed,  perhaps  with  loss  of  life  terrible 
to  think  of  even  now  when  the  danger  was  past. 

The  next  thing  I  did,  having  absorbed  all  the  news  I 
could  get  from  the  papers,  was  to  write  a  letter  to  Eagle. 
I  told  him  that  I  heard  he  had  been  hurt,  and  begged  him 
to  send  me  a  line — or  a  word  if  he  couldn't  write — to  say 
how  he  really  was.  I  inquired  if  he  were  in  hospital,  and  if 
it  would  be  possible  for  me  to  see  him.  When  I  had  fin 
ished,  I  rang  and  asked  for  a  trustworthy  messenger. 
By  and  by,  a  servant  of  the  hotel  arrived  to  do  my  errand, 
and  I  told  him  as  clearly  as  I  could  what  I  wanted.  He 
must  go  to  the  big  camp  near  Fort  Bliss  and  inquire  for 
Captain  March.  I  couldn't  say  whether  the  officer  would 
be  in  his  own  tent  or  elsewhere,  but,  anyhow,  he  must  be 
found.  If  he  were  too  ill  to  answer  even  by  word  of  mouth, 
the  messenger  mustn't  come  back  until  at  least  he  had 
learned  something  about  Captain  March's  condition. 

"I'll  pay  you  very  well,"  I  said,  trying  to  give  the  effect 
of  a  budding  female  millionaire. 

As  soon  as  the  man  had  gone,  I  bathed  and  dressed 
quickly,  in  order  to  be  ready  if  he  brought  back  word  that 
I  might  be  allowed  to  see  Eagle.  I  didn't  care  whether  I 
had  breakfast  or  not;  but  time  dragged  on,  and  no  thing  hap 
pened.  For  the  sake  of  making  dull  moments  pass,  I  rang 


SECRET  HISTORY  125 

for  coffee  and  a  roll.  It  was  early  still,  and  Mrs.  Dalziel 
and  Milly  were  doubtless  trying  to  make  up  for  their  dis 
turbed  night  by  taking  an  extra  rest. 

The  tray  appeared,  and  I  ate  and  drank  what  the  choking 
in  my  throat  would  let  me  swallow,  but  there  was  no  sign 
yet  of  the  messenger.  I  calculated  how  long  it  ought  to 
take  him  to  reach  the  camp  on  the  bicycle  he  had  men 
tioned;  how  long  to  do  the  errand;  how  long  to  return;  and 
still  there  was  nearly  an  hour  unaccounted  for.  I  was  so 
restless  and  miserable  that  I  could  have  shrieked.  I 
walked  up  and  down  the  little  white-and-green  room  as  if 
it  were  a  cage,  but  soon  all  my  strength  had  gone  from  me. 
I  sat  on  the  window  seat,  staring  out  as  I  had  stared  in  the 
night,  hoping  now  to  catch  sight  of  a  man  on  a  bicycle. 

At  last,  when  I  had  begun  to  feel  shut  in,  and  only  half 
alive,  like  the  Lady  of  Shalott,  as  though  nothing  could 
ever  happen  in  my  life  again,  I  jumped  up  at  the  sound  of 
a  knock  on  the  door.  It  was  the  messenger.  My  heart 
bounded  when  he  took  from  his  pocket  a  letter,  but  only 
to  fall  at  seeing  a  hotel  envelope  with  my  own  handwriting 
on  it. 

"I'm  sorry,  miss,"  the  man  said,  "but  I  couldn't  get 
to  Captain  March.  I  went  everywhere  and  tried  asking  a 
lot  of  folks,  but  couldn't  find  out  nothing.  They  wouldn't 
let  me  into  the  camp,  even,  much  less  to  the  gentleman's 
tent,  so  I  can't  tell  you  whether  he's  there  or  not.  I  did 
my  best,  but  the  army's  different  from  civil  life.  When 
they  say  'no'  they  mean  'no'  and  there  ain't  no  goin'  around 
it,  or  they  prods  you  with  one  of  them  bayonets." 

"Surely  you  haven't  come  back  without  any  news?" 
I  cried.  "You  must  have  heard  something!" 


126  SECRET  HISTORY 

"Not  a  thing  at  the  camp,  except  what  I've  just  told 
you,  miss,"  the  messenger  persisted.  "I  hung  around, 
and  whenever  I  seen  some  chap  going  in,  if  I  could  get  him 
to  speak  I  asked  questions  till  they  begun  to  take  me  for 
one  of  them  newspaper  guys.  It  was  only  when  I  seen 
the  stunt  was  no  good  I  chucked  it  and  come  back  with 
your  letter.  There's  just  one  thing  I  did  hear,  but  not  in 
camp.  'Twas  outside  the  hotel,  as  I  stopped  my  wheel. 
I  met  an  old  soldier  from  the  Fort  I'd  been  acquainted 
with  a  good  long  time — fact  is,  he's  engaged  to  my  sister. 
I  asked  him  if  he'd  heard  about  Captain  March  being 
wounded.  And  he  said — only  I  don't  know  as  I  ought  to 
tell  you  what  he  said " 

"Tell  me — every  word,"  I  panted. 

"Well,  then,  if  it's  every  word  you  want,  miss,  he  said  it 
was  all  damn  nonsense  about  March  being  wounded,  that 
something  big  was  up,  and  he's  under  arrest." 

Under  arrest !  The  words  struck  like  bullets.  Just  for 
a  second  everything  swam  before  my  eyes,  and  I  was 
afraid  that  I  was  going  to  do  the  most  idiotic  thing  a  woman 
can  do — faint.  You  see,  I  had  had  no  sleep  and  wasn't 
quite  at  my  best.  But  I  pulled  myself  together,  and  in 
my  ears  my  voice  sounded  only  a  little  sharp,  as  I  asked 
the  messenger  if  his  soldier  friend  had  given  him  any  fur 
ther  information. 

"Not  he!  Shut  up  tight  as  a  clam,"  was  the  answer. 
"I  don't  believe  he  knowed  anything  else." 

There  was  nothing  more  to  be  got  from  that  quarter, 
so  I  paid  the  man  and  let  him  go.  Then  I  tried  to  think 
how  I  could  hope  to  probe  to  the  bottom  of  the  mystery, 
since  mystery  there  certainly  was.  It  seemed  to  me  that, 


SECRET  HISTORY  127 

since  I  wasn't  able  to  reach  Eagle  by  letter,  my  one  chance 
lay  in  Tony.  His  manner,  and  the  admissions  he  had 
inadvertently  dropped  last  night,  had  told  me  that  he  had 
some  knowledge  of  the  truth,  which  was  to  be  hidden  from 
the  public.  He  had  refused  to  be  pumped,  and  I  respected 
him  for  his  refusal;  but  I  wasn't  the  public.  Whatever 
the  secret  might  be,  I  would  keep  it.  All  I  wanted  to  do 
was  to  help  Captain  March  if  he  could  be  helped ;  for  I  was 
sure  all  through  to  my  soul  that,  if  he  had  been  arrested, 
it  was  through  some  terrible  mistake  or  cruel  injustice. 
It  was  wicked  of  me,  perhaps,  deliberately  to  make  a  tool 
of  poor  Tony's  love  for  me,  but  I  tried  to  justify  myself  in 
deciding  to  do  so  by  saying  that  no  harm  could  come  to 
him  through  it,  or  evil  to  any  one. 

'Til  wheedle  the  truth  out  of  Tony,"  I  thought  again. 

I  dared  not  write  and  beg  him  to  come  and  see  me,  for 
after  our  parting  last  night  he  would  suspect  what  I  wanted 
and  have  time  to  steel  himself  against  me  before  we  met. 
Nor  could  I  go  to  the  camp  and  try  to  find  him  there,  for 
I — a  young  girl — wouldn't  be  admitted  alone  even  if  I 
were  desperate  enough  to  think  of  attempting  such  a  wild 
adventure.  If  I  persuaded  Mrs.  Dalziel  to  take  me,  and  we 
had  the  luck  to  see  Tony,  I  shouldn't  have  a  moment  with 
him  alone,  whereas  the  process  of  "wheedling"  might  take 
many  minutes. 

The  only  thing  to  do  was  to  wait,  and  that  was  the 
hardest  task  ever  given  me.  I  shall  not  forget  that  day 
even  if  I  live  to  be  an  old  woman;  and  looking  back  on  it 
now  over  the  months  which  have  passed  since — months 
which  seem  longer  than  all  the  rest  of  my  life  put  together — 
I  believe  that  my  very  character  took  on  some  change  in 


128  SECRET  HISTORY 

those  hours,  as  metal  is  changed  if  you  throw  it  on  to  the 
fire.  I  felt  for  the  first  time  that  I  was  a  woman,  with  all 
the  childishness  burnt  out  of  me;  and  I  was  glad,  for  I 
might  have  to  do  battle  with  those  who  were  older  and 
wiser  than  I. 

Mrs.  Dalziel  and  Milly  didn't  appear  till  noon;  but  mean 
while  I  went  down  and  talked  to  a  great  many  people  in  the 
hotel,  people  whom  I  didn't  know.  After  the  excitement 
of  the  night,  everybody  chattered  and  exchanged  impres 
sions  with  everybody  else,  without  stopping  to  think  or 
care  whether  they  had  been  introduced  to  each  other.  A 
few  of  the  men  had  a  vague  idea  that  something  was  being 
"hushed  up,"  but  none  could  guess  what  it  was,  and  no 
body  knew  anything  about  Captain  March.  Naturally 
I  didn't  tell  what  I  had  been  told :  that  he  was  under  arrest. 
I  trusted  with  all  my  heart  that  no  one  else  had  heard,  or 
would  hear,  the  story.  And  I  prayed  that  it  might  not  be 
true.  To  Milly  I  would  not  speak  of  him  at  all;  for  though 
she  had  apologized  for  yesterday,  and  "made  friends  "  with 
me  again,  I  knew  that  there  was  a  cruel  streak  in  her  which 
would  rejoice  revengefully  now,  in  any  trouble  that  fell  on 
Eagle.  She  would  feel  that  it  was  a  direct  punishment  sent 
by  Fate  for  his  indifference  to  her,  and  the  way  in  which 
(for  her  own  good)  she  had  forced  him  to  show  it. 

We  had  been  engaged  for  a  short  motor  run  with  Tony  in 
the  afternoon,  but  I  was  more  disappointed  than  surprised 
when  he  sent  a  hurried  note  to  his  mother  saying  that  there 
was  so  much  business  to  do  he  couldn't  get  off.  He  might 
not  even  be  able  to  dine.  We  were  not  to  wait,  but  he 
would  turn  up  in  time  for  dinner  at  seven-thirty  if  he 
In  any  case,  he  would  come  in  for  a  while  later. 


SECRET  HISTORY  129 

I  had  an  evening  dress  Di  had  given  me  after  she  had 
tired  of  it,  which  I  had  altered  for  myself,  and  Tony  partic 
ularly  liked  it.  I  put  it  on  for  dinner  that  night.  Tony  did 
manage  to  come,  bearing  an  offering — flowers  for  all  three 
of  us.  I  saw  that  he  noticed  the  frock,  and  with  a  little 
meaning  smile  at  him,  I  tucked  one  of  his  roses  down  into 
the  neck.  He  flushed  up  at  that,  poor  boy,  all  over  his 
nice  Billiken  face,  and  I  felt  like  every  cat  in  Christendom 
rolled  into  one.  But  it  was  the  first  move  in  my  game.  I 
hoped  that  after  so  much  encouragement,  he  would  make 
some  excuse  after  dinner  to  get  me  to  himself. 

Scarcely  a  word  was  said  during  the  meal  concerning 
Captain  March.  Mrs.  Dalziel  inquired  about  him;  Tony 
with  his  mouth  full  answered  indistinctly  and  hurriedly 
that  he  was  "getting  along  all  right" — as  well  as  anybody 
could  expect;  and  Milly  viperishly  turned  the  subject  to 
Major  Vandyke's  exploit. 

"He'll  be  a  greater  popular  hero  now  than  Captain 
March  ever  was,"  she  remarked  with  an  elaborately  im 
personal  air.  "The  first  thing  we  know,  Peggy,  we  shall 
hear  that  Lady  Di  is  engaged  to  him;  don't  you  think? 
She  adores  heroes.  She  once  told  me  so." 

"What  a  romance  that  would  be!"  beamed  nice  Mrs. 
Dalziel,  who  never  saw  under  the  surface  of  anything.  But 
I  was  grateful  to  her  for  breaking  in,  and  saving  me  the 
necessity  of  an  answer  to  Milly 's  questions.  If  I  had  re 
plied  truthrully,  I  should  have  had  to  say  that  it  was 
exactly  what  I  did  think.  Whatever  the  secret  of  the  night 
might  turn  out  to  be,  I  felt  sure  that  Sidney  Vandyke  had 
made  a  desperate  bid  to  win  Diana  away  from  Eagle 
March.  And  with  pangs  of  sharp  remorse  I  remembered 


130  SECRET  HISTORY 

those  angry  words  of  mine  which  had  perhaps  spurred  him 
to  the  effort. 

Neither  Mrs!  Dalziel  nor  Milly  appeared  to  have  any 
suspicions  that  the  origin  of  the  night  alarm  was  not 
precisely  what  the  newspapers  reported;  that  simplified 
things  for  Tony,  as  far  as  they  were  concerned;  and  I  was 
careful  not  to  fling  at  him  a  single  embarrassing  question. 
As  dinner  went  on  he  lost  the  worried  look  he  had  brought 
with  him,  a  look  that  was  a  misfit  for  his  merry  personality. 
He  glanced  often  with  a  rather  pathetic  wistfulness  at  me, 
which  I  read  very  easily  and  shamefacedly;  and  at  last  he 
broke  out  with  information  concerning  a  torchlight  pro 
cession  that  would  set  forth  from  one  of  the  parks  of  El 
Paso.  Of  course  I  knew  what  this  remark  was  leading  up 
to!  He'd  heard  people 'say,  he  went  on,  that  there  was 
going  to  be  quite  a  good  impromptu  show,  celebrating  the 
end  of  the  " scare";  for  it  was  generally  felt  that  Major 
Vandyke's  diplomatic  dash  had  cleared  the  air  of  danger: 
and  if  there  had  ever  been  any  real  peril  it  was  past  now, 
once  and  for  all.  Would  we  like  to  go  out  and  see  the 
sight? 

Promptly  Milly  answered  for  her  mother  and  herself. 
They  would  not  like  to  go  out  and  see  the  sight.  If  there 
was  anything  worth  the  trouble  of  looking  at,  probably  it 
could  be  seen  from  the  hotel  windows. 

"But  what  about  you,  Lady  Peggy?  "  Tony  asked. 

"I'd  love  to  go  with  you,"  I  answered. 

I  put  on  a  long  cloak,  the  one  I  had  worn  to  see  "our" 
battery  off  at  Fort  Alvarado  railway  station,  and  Tony  and 
I  sallied  forth  together.  It  was  not  till  we  were  safely  in 
the  street  that  he  told  me  we  were  early  for  the  procession. 


SECRET  HISTORY  131 

"Never  mind,"  said  I.  "It's  lovely  to  be  out  in  the  blue 
night.  We'll  just  stroll  through  quiet  streets,  where  there 
won't  be  a  crowd  to  bother  us,  until  it's  time  to  go  and  gaze 
at  the  torches." 

"There's  a  nice  little  sort  of  park,"  he  suggested,  "not 
too  far  away.  How  would  you  like  to  walk  there? " 

I  said  I  would  like  it,  and  as  our  "little  sort  of"  park 
wasn't  the  park  whence  the  procession  would  start,  we  had 
it  practically  to  ourselves.  We  found  an  empty  seat  and 
sat  down  side  by  side  like  a  Tommy  Atkins  and  his  "girl" 
in  Kensington  Gardens. 

The  first  thing  that  Tony  did  when  we  were  anchored  to 
gether  there  was  to  propose  again,  after  an  apology.  I  let 
him  get  it  over,  and  then  played  the  next  pawn  in  my  game. 


CHAPTER  XI 

TONY  dear,"  I  said  softly,  when  he  had  finished,  "I 
like  you  better  than  any  man  I  know,  except  one; 
and  that  one  thinks  of  me  as  his  good  little  sister, 
so  you  needn't  be  afraid  of  his  interference.  But — there's 
something  that  does  interfere!" 

"What  is  it?"  he  eagerly  wanted  to  know. 

"It  is — that  you  don't  really  love  me." 

He  stared  at  me  through  the  deepening  dusk.  "Don't 
love  you?  Good  Lord,  Lady  Peggy,  I'm  a  fool  about  you! 
Any  dough-head  can  see  that." 

"Ah,  but  I'm  not  a  dough-head.  I  know  you  don't  love 
me.  You  proved  that  last  night." 

"For  the  life  of  me,  I  can't  think  what  you  mean.  I 
I  told  you  I'd  try  to  be  your  friend,  but  you  knew  what 
that  meant!  Don't  keep  me  in  suspense." 

"You've  hurt  my  feelings  dreadfully.  I've  been  brood 
ing  over  it  all  day." 

"I — hurt  your  feelings?  Why,  you  ought  to  know  I 
wouldn't  for  the  world " 

"But  you  did.  You  refused  to  trust  me.  There  can  be 
no  love  without  trust." 

"  I'd  trust  you  with  my  life.  I  can't  to  save  myself  guess 

what  you're  driving  at "  He  stopped  suddenly.  My 

meaning  had  dawned  on  him  in  that  instant. 

"Now  you've  guessed,  haven't  you?"  I  asked,  when  for 

132 


SECRET  HISTORY  133 

a  few  seconds,  which  I  counted  with  heartbeats,  he  had  sat 
tensely  silent. 

"Maybe  I  have.  But  see  here,  Peggy,  you  aren't  hold 
ing  that  against  me,  are  you?  It  wouldn't  be  fair.  I'd 
trust  you  with  anything  of  my  own;  but  when  it  comes  to 
other  people's  business — official  business " 

"Did you  ever  hear  the  lines,  'Trust  me  not  at  all,  or  all 
in  all?'"  I  continued  to  torture  him.  "It  was  Tennyson 
who  made  Vivien  say  those  words  to  Merlin.  She  was 
deceiving  him,  and  meant  to  ruin  him  when  she'd  wormed 
out  his  secret;  for  that  reason,  it  isn't  a  very  appropriate 
quotation.  But,  otherwise,  it's  particularly  so.  If  you 
trusted  me  for  yourself,  you'd  trust  me  for  others,  too.  It's 
the  same  thing — or  else  it's  nothing.  I'm  not  like  Vivien. 
I  don't  mean  to  deceive  you,  or  ruin  you,  or  anything 
horrid.  And  I  couldn't  if  I  would ! " 

"You  don't  need  to  tell  me  that,"  said  Tony,  very 
miserable,  and  making  me  miserable  as  well.  "I  know 
you're  true  blue — the  truest  and  bluest — but  there  are 
some  things  I've  got  no  right  to  do,  even  for  you,  Peggy. 
I'd  cut  my  tongue  out  to  please  you,  I  do  believe  I  would, 
but  to  use  it  in  a  dishonourable  way  for  your  sake  is 
dif " 

"There!  I  told  you  you  didn't  love  me!"  I  reproached 
him.  "You  accuse  me  now  of  wanting  you  to  do  some 
thing  dishonourable.  I  don't  want  you  to!  I  can't 
see  that  it  would  be  dishonourable  to  put  me  out  of 
suspense  about  a  dear  friend  like  Captain  March,  a 
man  who's  in  love  with  my  sister,  and  wants  to  marry 
her,  as  you  surely  know.  But  that  settles  everything  be 
tween  us,  of  course.  To  be  perfectly  honest  with  you, 


134  SECRET  HISTORY 

Tony,  I  must  say  that  I'm  not  certain,  even  if  you  did 
what  I  have  asked,  that  I'd  be  able  to  do  what  you  ask 
— love  you,  except  as  a  friend.  I've  said  before  that  I 
couldn't.  But  I  might  have  changed  my  mind  in  future, 
for  all  I  know,  if " 

" If ! "  echoed  Tony.  "That's  a  darned  cruel  way  to  put 
it! "  And  he  looked  so  much  like  the  nicest  Billiken  ever 
seen  on  earth  that  I  really  did  love  him,  though  not  quite  in 
the  way  he  wanted. 

"No  doubt  I  am  cruel  as  well  as  dishonourable,"  I  replied 
frigidly.  "So  now  you  can  easily  stop  loving  me,  can't 
you?" 

"  No,  I  can't,"  he  said.  "  See  here,  Peggy,  what  can  I  say 
or  do  to  make  things  right?  I  think  you're  the  kindest  and 
dearest  and  most  honourable  girl  whoever  lived,  and  I " 

"Prove  it  then!"  I  cried.     And  I  laid  my  hands  on  his. 

"How?     What  can  I  do?" 

"Tell  me  the  whole  truth  about  what  happened  last 
night.  Oh — I'm  not  trying  to  bribe  you !  I  don't  promise 
if  you  do  tell,  that  I'll  love  you,  or  marry  you,  or  anything 
important  of  that  sort.  All  I  promise  is  to  be  so  grateful, 
so  glad,  that — who  knows  how  I  may  feel  to  you  after 
ward?  And  anyhow,  I'll  let  you  kiss  me,  this  very  night 
— on  my  cheek." 

"You  will?  Yet — you  say  you're  not  bribing  me !  You 
couldn't  offer  me  a  much  bigger  bribe.  Why,  Peggy,  I'd 
be  happy  just  to  die — after  getting  a  kiss  from  you — even 
on  your  cheek! "  and  he  laughed  at  himself  forlornly. 

"You're  a  dear  boy,  Tony,"  I  said,  crushed  with  re 
morse.  "The  kiss  won't  be  a  bribe,  either.  It  will  be  a 
token  of — of — I  hardly  know  what.  But  partly  of  grati- 


SECRET  HISTORY  135 

tudc,  the  deepest  gratitude,  if  you  can  trust  me  enough  to 
believe  I'll  be  true." 

"  I  do  believe  that,  indeed  I  do  believe  it,  forever.  And — 
and — by  Jove!  I  will  tell  you,"  he  broke  out,  with  a  kind 
of  breathless  gasp.  "You're  too  strong  for  me,  Peggy. 
You've  got  me !  But  after  all,  there's  no  such  great  harm  in 
telling,  now.  It's  different  from  last  night.  Then  I  didn't 
know — nobody  knew,  I  suppose — what  the  upshot  of 
certain  things  might  be.  As  it's  turned  out,  some  of  the 
story  will  have  to  be  known.  Not  all — but  the  part  you 
want  to  know  most."  • 

"Tell  me  that,"  I  pleaded. 

"You  swear   you'll  never  breathe  anything  I  say  to 

you?" 

"I  swear  I  never  will,  until  you  give  me  leave." 

"  Well,  then,  those  three  explosions  you  heard  last  night 
weren't  explosions  at  all.  They  were  shots  from  our  field 
guns.  But  I'll  tell  you  what  happened  exactly — both  sides 
of  the  story." 

"Both  sides?     How  is  it  there  are  two?  " 

"Well,  there's  March's  side,  and " 

"And — what  other  one?" 

"And  Major  Vandyke's  side." 

"I  knew  it!"  I  cried  out  sharply.  "I  knew  that  man 
would  try  to  ruin  Eagle.  I  should  like  to  shoot  him  with 
one  of  those  very  guns." 

"Peggy,  you  mustn't  talk  like  that,"  Tony  warned  me. 
"If  you  do,  I  can't  go  on." 

"Forgive  me,"  I  said,  and  let  him  hold  my  hand,  happy 
for  a  moment  in  the  belief  that  he  was  soothing  me. 

"You  know — you've  heard,  I  guess,  that  Vandyke  was 


136  SECRET  HISTORY 

in  command  last  night,  because  the  colonel  had  a  touch  ol 
the  sun?  But  that  isn't  the  right  way  to  begin  my  story. 
I'm  hanged  if  I  know  how  to  begin  it !  We  were  up  there 
on  the  hill  with  the  guns,  on  guard;  I  mean  I  was,  and  the 
men.  And  March  came  along,  and  strolled  off  again  a 
little  way  with  his  field  glasses.  Maybe  thirty  or  forty 
yards  distant,  he  was.  I  wasn't  noticing  anything — felt 
rather  sleepy,  and  was  trying  all  I  knew  to  keep  awake.  I 
was  in  charge  of  the  guns,  you  see.  I  guess  I  was  thinking 
about  you.  I  generally  am.  Anyhow,  the  first  thing  I 
knew,  March  hurried  back.  He  seemed  queer  and  excited, 
and  stood  still  a  minute  as  if  he  was  struck  all  of  a  heap. 
Then  to  my  amazement  he  rapped  out  an  order  to  load  and 
fire  number  one  and  number  two  guns,  aiming  at  a  spot 
just  beyond  the  bridge.  But  before  we'd  had  time  to  do 
more  than  gasp — I  and  the  gunners — he  changed  his  order, 
and  commanded  us  to  fire  blank.  Lord,  that  was  a  relief — 
though  even  blank  would  be  bad  enough  for  the  lot  of  us  if 
it  turned  out  that  March  had  gone  suddenly  mad.  You 
fire  blank  for  a  salute,  you  know :  but  Mexico  wasn't  likely 
to  take  it  as  a  compliment !  Luckily  we'd  some  rounds  of 
blank,  served  out  to  us  in  case  we  might  need  to  send  a 
scare  and  not  a  peppering  across  the  river.  There  was 
nothing  for  it  but  to  obey  orders,  though  I  couldn't  help 
thinking  about  'The  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade,'  when 
every  one  knew  that  some  one  had  blundered.  March 
shouted  out,  '  Go  slow ! '  And  you  bet  we  did  go  slow !  It 
seemed  as  if  he  must  be  off  his  head — or  somebody  else  was 
— for  so  far  as  we  could  tell — and  it  was  a  fairly  clear  night 
— there  wasn't  a  sign  of  trouble  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river. 


SECRET  HISTORY  137 

"We'd  only  fired  the  three  shots,  when  Major  Vandyke 
pounced  on  us,  ordered  us  to  stop,  and  wanted  to  know 
what  the  devil  and  all  his  angels  March  was  up  to.  *  Carry 
ing  out  your  orders/  said  March.  'That's  a  da '  but 

what's  the  use  of  repeating  to  you,  Peggy,  what  they  said 
to  each  other?  The  principal  thing  is,  Vandyke  denied 
having  given  any  order  to  fire,  and  cursed  March  for  all  he 
was  worth.  Said  he  might  be  the  cause  of  bringing  us  and 
Mexico  to  grips  over  the  incident.  Then  he  dashed  off  in 
his  automobile,  which  was  waiting  for  him  under  the  hill 
(he'd  been  in  it,  you  know,  or  he  couldn't  have  got  to  the 
spot  so  soon) ;  you  must  have  read  that  in  the  papers;  and  so 
much  of  their  story  was  true.  Whatever  you  may  think  of 
Vandyke,  Peggy,  that  was  man's  size  work !  He  took  his 
life  in  his  hands,  the  way  the  Mexicans  must  have  been 
buzzing  in  their  wasp's  nest  over  there,  after  the  hot  water 
we'd  thrown  on  it." 

"It  was  the  sort  of  thing  he'd  love  to  do,"  I  said  im 
placably.  "The  theatrical  thing.  He  must  have  known, 
too,  that  the  man  driving  the  car  was  the  one  in  greater 
danger.  But  he  didn't  drive ! " 

"He  never  does  drive.  He  didn't  just  funk  it  at  that 
one  time;  it's  his  habit.  I've  always  heard  him  say  he 
hated  to  drive  a  car.  Too  lazy!  Anyhow,  there  was  the 
very  dickens  to  pay.  Before  leaving  the  hill  for  his  dash 
across  the  river  he'd  told  March  to  consider  himself  under 
arrest " 

"How  dared  he?"  I  fiercely  wanted  to  know.  "That 
wasn't  his  business." 

"  Oh,  yes  it  was !  He's  March's  superior  officer.  Besides 
any  officer  has  the  right,  if — but  I  won't  worry  your  head 


138  SECRET  HISTORY 

with  military  rules  and  regulations!  What  you  want  to 
know  is,  how  this  affects  Captain  March,  don't  you?" 

"  Yes,  that's  the  great  thing  to  me,"  I  admitted.  "  Tony, 
will  it  ruin  him?  " 

"It's  early  days  to  say  as  much  as  that,  yet.  It  all 
depends  on  the  result  of  the  court-martial." 

"Will  he  be  court-martialled?" 

"  Of  course.  There's  nothing  else  for  it.  It's  a  question 
which  of  those  two  men  can  establish  his  case,  and  a  court- 
martial  will  have  to  decide  between  them.  But,  I'm  afraid, 
Peggy,  it  will  go  against  March.  The  circumstances  were 
so  very  queer,  and  Vandyke's  denial  of  giving  any  order  at 
all  is  so  strong.  Besides,  it  would  be  such  a  mad,  im 
probable  thing  for  him  to  give  such  an  order,  as  there  was 
no  danger  of  attack.  He'd  have  no  motive." 

"He  would  have  a  motive,"  I  broke  in.  "I  can  prove 
that.  Will  they  let  a  woman  bear  witness  for  a  prisoner 
in  a  military  court-martial?" 

"I  suppose  your  evidence  could  be  taken,  if  they  were 
certain  it  had  an  important  bearing  on  the  case.  But  I 
don't  see  how  that  could  have,  Peggy.  This  isn't  women's 
business,  it's  men's." 

"And  devils',"  I  finished  for  him.  "We  won't  argue 
now  whether  my  evidence  could  be  important  or  not.  Tell 
me  both  sides  of  the  story  you  were  speaking  of,  first 
Captain  March's,  then  Major  Vandyke's." 

"Well,  March  says  that  while  he  was  strolling  about,  at 
a  short  distance  from  the  guns,  looking  through  his  field 
glasses  at  a  fire  he  could  see  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  he 
saw  a  chap  in  khaki  hurry  up  the  hill,  wheeling  a  bicycle. 
As  soon  as  the  fellow  came  near  enough  to  make  out  his 


SECRET  HISTORY  139 

features,  March  says  he  recognized  Vandyke's  orderly,  a 
man  who's  been  the  major's  soldier  servant  for  a  good 
length  of  time.  This  orderly,  according  to  March,  brought 
a  verbal  order  from  Vandyke  as  acting  colonel,  to  begin 
firing  number  one  and  number  two  guns,  and  keep  them  in 
action  until  further  notice,  aiming  at  a  spot  just  beyond  one 
of  the  bridges  on  the  Mexican  side.  March  said  he  was  so 
astounded  at  getting  such  an  order,  he  thought  there  must 
be  some  awful  mistake,  and  before  obeying  he  wanted  to 
have  it  on  paper.  So  he  took  the  risk  of  any  danger  from 
delay  in  case  the  order  was  really  all  right,  and  scribbled  a 
few  lines  to  Vandyke  on  a  leaf  torn  out  of  his  notebook " 

"A  leaf  torn  out  of  his  notebook!"  I  couldn't  help  echo 
ing.  "  Perhaps  it  was  the  one  I  gave  him." 

"Shouldn't  wonder!"  Tony  went  on,  stolidly.  "He 
says  he  repeated  in  writing  the  command  he'd  just  re 
ceived,  and  begged  Vandyke,  if  it  was  correct,  to  confirm 
him  in  the  same  way.  The  messenger  dashed  off,  leaving 
March  wondering  like  thunder  what  it  all  meant :  whether 
there  was  some  fearful  mistake,  or  whether  there  was  a  big 
crisis,  and  no  time  for  written  orders.  He  could  see,  of 
course,  that  it  might  be  possible,  and  that  Vandyke  had 
ordered  only  those  two  guns  to  be  fired  just  to  scare  the 
Mexicans  off  from  playing  any  trick  they  were  at.  The 
spot  he  was  to  aim  at  suggested  that  explanation,  for  not 
much  harm  ought  to  be  done  with  a  few  shots  directed  that 
way.  Not  much  of  what  you  might  call  'material  harm'  I 
mean.  But  there  was  no  end  to  the  harm  such  an  incident 
could  do,  if  there'd  been  nothing  to  provoke  it.  You  see  the 
situation  as  March  says  he  saw  it,  don't  you?" 

"  Yes,  I  see.     But  what  happened  after  that?  " 


140  SECRET  HISTORY 

"According  to  March,  the  orderly  was  back  again  in  next 
to  no  time.  March  had  stopped  where  he  was,  waiting  for 
him,  as  he  didn't  want  to  give  the  snap  away  to  me  and  the 
men  till  the  last  minute.  And  he  was  hoping  against  hope, 
till  he  got  the  return  message.  It  was  verbal  again,  in 
spite  of  his  written  request,  and  mighty  peremptory,  order 
ing  him  to  obey  without  any  more  nonsense.  That's 
March's  story.  Not  seeing  a  way  to  get  out  of  it,  yet  real 
izing  the  awful  consequences  should  there  be  anything 
wrong,  March  was  going  to  pass  on  the  order  to  load  and 
fire  when  he  suddenly  thought  he'd  compromise  by  firing 
blank  only.  You  see  he  was  in  an  awful  fix  anyway,  had 
to  make  an  instant  decision,  and  did  what  he  thought  best 
at  the  moment,  though  in  giving  that  order  to  fire  blank  he 
was  already  disobeying  the  orders  of  his  superior  officer. 
Vandyke's  version  is  that  he  never  sent  any  orders  what 
ever.  That  his  orderly  was  with  him  in  his  car,  and  had 
never  left  it  for  a  minute.  That  March  must  have  been 
deceived  by  some  trick  of  resemblance — a  sort  of  'Captain 
of  Kopenick'  (if  you  know  that  story) ;  getting  off  a  hoax 
on  him,  a  deadly  hoax,  meant  to  upset  the  whole  situ 
ation  between  the  United  States  and  Mexico.  He  says 
March  ought  to  have  known  better  than  to  obey  a  verbal 
order  when  the  thing  was  so  serious,  and  that  he  was  some^ 
thing  worse  than  an  ass  to  mistake  a  stranger  for  Johnson, 
the  orderly,  whose  face  March  knew  almost  as  well  as  his 
own.  There's  where  Vandyke  scores  an  extra  point  against 
March.  It  would  be  very  unusual  to  send  a  verbal  order." 

"That's  why  Eagle  doubted  it,"  I  argued  breathlessly. 
"  Could  he  have  refused  to  obey  the  acting  colonel,  when 
the  order  was  repeated?  " 


SECRET  HISTORY  141 

"That's  the  question.  It's  too  big  for  me,"  Tony  said 
with  a  sigh.  "It's  for  the  court-martial  to  settle.  There 
are  no  witnesses  who  can  be  of  much  use  on  either  side,  so 
far  as  I  can  see.  Johnson  was  wounded  in  the  lungs  last 
night,  you  know,  crossing  the  bridge  in  Vandyke's  car,  and 
never  so  much  as  squeaked  again.  He's  dead  now,  so  Van 
dyke  has  to  depend  on  his  own  word  alone;  but  everybody 
who  knows  about  the  business  seems  to  think  that  proba 
bilities  are  with  him.  His  story  is  that  he  knew  nothing  of 
what  was  going  on  till  he  heard  the  guns  at  work.  Luckily 
he  was  near  by  in  his  car,  as  you've  heard  a  dozen  times, 
and  dashed  up  to  the  rescue." 

"What  about  the  message  Eagle  wrote  in  his  note 
book?" 

"There's  only  his  own  word  to  prove  it  was  ever  written. 
Naturally  there's  no  trace  of  it." 

"But  you,"  I  persisted,  "you  and  your  men  who  were 
in  charge  of  the  guns;  can't  any  of  you  bear  witness 
for  Captain  March — that  you  saw  Major  Vandyke's 
orderly?" 

"Unfortunately  for  March,  no,  not  a  man  Jack  of  us," 
said  Tony.  "If  he'd  been  close  to  us  at  the  time,  we  must 
have  seen  and  recognized  anybody  who  came  and  spoke  to 
him.  But  I  told  you  he'd  strolled  off.  It  wasn't  our 
business  to  watch  him,  and  nobody  was  watching.  A  man 
on  foot  wheeling  a  bicycle  doesn't  make  much  noise;  and  a 
khaki  uniform  is  just  about  the  colour  of  the  ground,  on 
that  yellow  hill.  There  was  no  moon,  only  stars,  which 
means  no  black  shadow.  I  shall  be  called  on  as  a  witness 
for  the  defence,  of  course,  worse  luck — but  I'm  afraid  I 
can't  say  'anything  to  help  March.  I  wish  to  the  Lord  I 


SECRET  HISTORY 

could !  I'm  dashed  if  it  isn't  the  other  way  round.  If  I'm 
not  mighty  careful,  I  may  do  him  harm  instead  of  good." 

"You'd  like  to  do  him  good,  wouldn't  you?"  I  pleaded. 

"  You  bet  your  life  I  would,  Peggy.  March  is  just  about 
the  finest  chap  I  ever  met,  and  most  people  think  the  same 
of  him.  But  what  can  I  do?  " 

"I  can't  see,"  I  said,  "but  I  may,  when  things  grow 
clearer.  They  must  grow  clearer!  You  for  one  believe 
Eagle's  word,  don't  you,  Tony?  You  believe  it  was  Major 
Vandyke's  orderly  who  came  to  him?" 

As  I  asked  this  question,  I  stared  through  the  twilight 
into  Tony's  face,  trying  to  read  it  even  as  he  tried  not  to  let 
it  be  read.  He  looked  wretchedly  uneasy,  and  rather 
obstinate.  "  I  can't  say  I'm  sure  of  that,"  he  replied.  "  I'm 
sure  some  one  came  to  him,  and  I'm  sure  March  thought  it 
was  Vandyke's  orderly.  That's  as  far  as  I  can  go." 

"Even  when  I've  told  you  that  I  know  there's  a  motive 
for  Major  Vandyke's  wanting  to  injure  him,  ruin  him  in  his 
career  if  he  can?  " 

"You  seem  to  think  Vandyke's  a  regular  sort  of  villain 
out  of  melodrama,"  said  Tony,  with  an  uncomfortable 
laugh.  "  I  guess  you  don't  know  men  very  well  yet,  Peggy 
— except  in  novels  and  plays — when  it  comes  down  to  bed 
rock.  They're  not  much  like  that  in  real  life,  as  far  as  I've 
ever  seen.  They  never  go  round  plotting  to  ruin  other 
chaps'  careers,  even  when  they  don't  happen  to  get  along 
very  well  with  'em." 

"  You're  not  so  very  old.  You  haven't  had  much  more 
experience  of  life  than  I  have,"  I  taunted  him. 

Tony  laughed.  "Haven't  I?  That's  all  you  know. 
You're  a  child,  a  little  baby-child,  compared  to  me.  I  may 


SECRET  HISTORY  143 

be  young,  but  anyhow,  I'm  a  man,  and  I've  lived  among 
men  since  I  left  West  Point  two  years  ago — even  if  you 
don't  count  cadets  as  men.  Vandyke's  no  angel,  and  he 
and  March  have  been  doing  a  bit  of  the  cat-and-dog  act  in 
a  quiet  way  lately.  But  it's  pretty  far-fetched  to  accuse 
Vandyke  of  hatching  up  a  plot  to  wipe  March  off  the  map, 
especially  when  it  meant  risking  his  own  life  and  sacrificing 
his  orderly,  who  was  devoted  to  him — a  fellow  he  valued  a 
whole  lot " 

"  Ah ! "  I  broke  in.  "  So  the  orderly  was  'devoted  to  him !' 
I  wonder  if  the  court-martial  will  remember  that  fact  for 
what  it's  worth?" 

"For  what  it's  worth,  yes.  I  guess  it  can  be  trusted  to 
do  just  that.  But  what  there  is  will  be  likely  to  tell  in  Van 
dyke's  favour,  I  guess,  not  against  him.  Johnson  had  good 
reasons  for  being  devoted  to  the  major.  The  chap  got  con 
sumption,  and  was  in  a  bad  way — would  have  had  to  say 
good-bye  to  an  army  life — if  Vandyke  hadn't  paid  for  his 
cure  in  one  of  the  best  sanatoria  in  America,  and  used  in 
fluence  to  keep  his  job  open  for  him,  too.  Nothing  very 
black  in  that  record,  eh?" 

"Major  Vandyke's  the  kind  of  person  to  pay  high 
for  anything  he  really  wants  himself,"  I  said.  "He  must 
have  badly  wanted  this  Johnson  man  for  something  or 
other." 

"Johnson  was  born  a  sort  of  gentleman,  but  hadn't  the 
art  of  getting  along  in  life,  although  he  was  pretty  near 
being  a  genius  at  mathematics  as  well  as  mechanics,  and 
could  do  stunts  in  several  languages,  like  you.  No  shame 
to  Vandyke  to  make  use  of  the  man's  gifts.  He  must 
have  been  jolly  useful — too  useful  to  waste." 


144  SECRET  HISTORY 

"It  won't  make  me  love  you  better,  Tony,"  I  remarked 
with  deliberate  injustice  (for  there  are  moods  when  any 
girl  must  feel  a  horrid  satisfaction  in  being  unjust),  "if  you 
go  on  praising  Major  Vandyke  to  the  skies.  Does  it  matter 
why  the  orderly  was  devoted  to  him,  or  he  to  the  orderly? 
The  thing  of  importance  is  the  tie  between  them.  The 
more  devoted  the  man  was,  the  more  willing  he  would  be  to 
go  to  any  lengths  for  Major  Vandyke." 

"Oh,  if  you  want  to  put  it  that  way,"  Tony  hedged. 
"But  it's  a  girl's  notion,  like  the  motive  you  attribute  to 
Vandyke." 

"How  do  you  know  what  motive  I  mean?  "  I  shot  at  him. 
"I  haven't  told  you!" 

"  'I  may  be  an  ass,  but  I'm  not  a  silly  ass,' "  quoted  Tony. 
"I've  guessed." 

"What  have  you  guessed?" 

"Oh,  about  Vandyke  and  March  both  being  in  love  with 
Lady  Diana.  All  the  owliest  owls  are  on  to  that.  First 
time  Vandyke  was  ever  caught  for  keeps,  the  fellows  say. 
But  it  would  only  do  harm  to  March  to  bring  anything 
of  that  sort  up  in  this  business,  to  say  nothing  of  the  bad 
taste,  and  how  mad  he'd  be,  and  the  unpleasantness  for 
Lady  Diana  and — and  all  your  family." 

"It  wouldn't  be  agreeable,  I  know,"  I  admitted.  "But 
anything  to  save  Eagle,  no  matter  how  we  sacrifice  our 
selves." 

"I  don't  somehow  hear  Lady  Di  echoing  that,  though  I 
agree  with  you.  Only  there's  more  in  the  thing  than  you 
seem  to  see,  because  you  keep  your  eyes  fixed  on  one  spot. 
If  Lady  Diana's  engaged  to  Major  Vandyke,  then  he'd 
have  no  incentive  to  strike  at  another  man  who  was  gone 


SECRET  HISTORY  145 

on  her.  It  would  be  the  other  way  round.  The  chap 
who  had  lost  her  would  be  the  one,  if  any,  to  be  up  to  melo 
dramatic  stunts.  It  might  be  said  about  March  that  he 
risked  trouble  for  himself,  for  the  pleasure  of  having  a 
smack  at  Vandyke;  putting  the  blame  on  him  for  a  mad 
order  to  fire  off  guns  at  the  good  little  Mexicans,  for  in 
stance,  do  you  see?" 

I  did  see,  and  seeing,  suffered  a  sharp  stab  of  disappoint 
ment.  Tony  had  taken  my  one  weapon  out  of  my  hands. 
He  was  right.  I  had  been  wrong,  while  thinking  myself 
cleverer  than  he.  "There  must  be  some  other  way  of 
clearing  Eagle,"  I  said  desperately. 

"I  hope  so,  with  my  whole  heart;  although  I've  always 
had  a  sneaking  admiration  for  Vandyke,  too.  He's  such  a 
dashed  fine-looking  chap,  a  credit  to  the  army,  and  all  that. 
To  clear  March — really  clear  him,  without  leaving  a  stain 
of  carelessness  even — means  to  ruin  Vandyke.  For  March 
can't  be  made  white  as  snow  without  Vandyke  being 
proved  a  liar,  and — by  Jove,  yes,  a  traitor  to  his  country ! " 

"That's  what  he  must  be  proved,"  I  said. 

"It'll  be  a  tough  proposition.  As  I  see  it,  there's  no 
proof." 

"It  must  be  found." 

"That's  easy  to  say.  But  if  there's  any,  it  ought  to  be 
found  by  the  court." 

"When  will  the  trial  come  on?"  I  asked. 

"  In  a  few  days.     I  don't  know  yet  just  when." 

"In  the  meantime,  Eagle  is  under  arrest?" 

"Yes.     It's  sickening." 

"Aren't  his  friends — I  mean  among  the  officers — in 
dignant?" 


146  SECRET  HISTORY 

"They're  mighty  sorry,  all  broken  up,  and  don't  know 
what  to  think.  But,  of  course,  Major  Vandyke's  got  a 
good  many  friends,  too.  As  for  the  Fort  Bliss  officers, 
they're  so  wild  about  the  whole  business  that  I'm  afraid 
they're  a  bit  prejudiced  against  March — those  of  them  who 
don't  know  him  personally.  You  see,  there  was  an  awful 
row  on  the  hill  after  the  firing — but  I  didn't  mean  to  tell 
you  about  that " 

"Why  not,  as  I  know  the  rest?  I  suppose  some  of  them 
arrived " 

"  I  should  say  they  did  arrive !  That's  too  slow  a  word. 
The  noise  shot  'em  out  of  their  blessed  beds — those  of  'em 
who  had  gone  to  bed — and  brought  the  others  out  of  any 
old  place  they  happened  to  be  in:  club,  hotel,  friends' 
houses.  The  first  thing  we  knew,  we  had  the  General 
Commanding  on  us.  They  know  some  language,  those 
grand  old  Johnnies !  Poor  March !  He  was  up  against  it, 
I  can  tell  you.  His  worst  enemy  would  have  been  sorry  for 
him." 

" Fiends !     What  did  they  do?  "  I  gasped. 

"It  wasn't  so  much  what  they  did  as  what  they  said. 
But  I  shan't  give  you  details,  Peggy,  so  don't  try  and  worm 
'em  out  of  me.  It'll  only  waste  our  valuable  time.  March 
was  under  arrest — that's  enough.  I  suppose  he  ought  to 
be  grateful  that  it's  been  *  judged  expedient' — that's  the 
phrase — never  to  let  the  story  in  its  full  enormity  leak  out. 
Vandyke  was  so  smart  at  apologies  and  explanations  in 
that  Mexican  dash  of  his  last  night,  and  the  part  he  played 
appealed  such  a  lot  to  the  chaps  over  there,  who're  nothing 
if  they're  not  sensational,  that  it's  hoped  the  incident  won't 
have  any  serious  international  results  at  all.  Tne  great 


SECRET  HISTORY  147 

thing  is  to  keep  the  business  forever  from  the  public  on 
both  sides  of  the  Rio  Grande.  Luckily  most  people  had 
the  willies  so  badly  after  the  first  shot  that  they  couldn't 
swear  what  sort  of  noise  they  had  heard.  It's  a  hard  job, 
too,  for  an  amateur  to  tell  what  direction  a  sound  comes 
from,  when  his  eyes  haven't  helped  his  ears.  If  Vandyke 
hadn't  put  a  stop  to  any  danger  of  return  shots,  the  fat 
would  have  been  in  the  fire  for  us.  Thanks  to  him,  that 
story  of  an  explosion  among  the  ammunition  could  pass 
muster.  As  for  March's  alleged  Vound,'  that  tale's  to  get 
him  out  of  his  social  engagements,  without  stirring  up  talk. 
But  it  won't  be  believed  in  for  long.  The  court-martial 
findings  can  be  kept  secret,  but  not  the  fact  of  its  taking 
place.  It's  to  be  put  round  that  March  was  accused  of 
gross  carelessness,  and  causing  the  'accident'  that  occurred. 
So  now  you  see,  Peggy,  your  keeping  dark  about  what  I've 
told  you  to-night  is  all  for  March's  good.  If  he's  found 
guilty " 

"What  then?"  I  breathed.  "What  will  be  the  sen 
tence?" 

"Why,  as  the  affair  has  to  be  hushed  up  forever  he  can't 
be  'chucked.'  He'll  probably  be  'given  permission  to 
resign.'  And  then  he  will  resign.  And  nobody  outside 
will  ever  know  why.  Those  inside  will  think  he's  jolly 
well  in  luck  to  be  let  down  so  easy  considering  all  ... 
what?" 

"I  didn't  speak,"  I  whispered. 

"Why,  Peggy,  you're  crying!" 

I  couldn't  answer.  I  only  bent  down  my  head  lest  he 
should  see  my  face. 

"I  felt  from  the  first  I  oughtn't  to  have  told  you," 


148  SECRET  HISTORY 

growled  Tony.  "Now  I'm  sure.  Don't  take  it  so  hard, 
dear.  Something  may  turn  up  we  can't  think  of,  and 
March  get  off  scot  free.  Who  knows?  Anyhow,  he's 
nothing  but  your  friend.  And  your  sister  isn't  likely  to 
marry  him  now.  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  she's  engaged 
to  Vandyke  already." 

"It  wasn't  settled  between  them,"  I  said,  swallowing 
my  tears.  "Only  I  thought  she  liked  Eagle  better,  and 
that  if  he'd  plenty  of  money — but  it's  all  over.  No  hope 
since  this  thing  has  happened!" 

"Would  you  like  to  have  her  marry  March?"  Tony 
wanted  to  know. 

"I'm — not  sure!  But  it  will  be  too  dreadful  if  she 
marries  Major  Vandyke  after  what  he  has  done.  Why  do 
you  say  you  *  shouldn't  wonder '  if  they're  engaged  already? 
And  a  little  while  ago,  too,  you  said  *  if  Lady  Di  is  engaged 
to  Vandyke.'  Di  can't  have  heard  yet  that  there's  any 
reason  why — why  the  most  disloyal  coward  should  drop 
Eagle  March." 

"There  are  such  things  as  telegrams.  And  the  big 
California  papers  must  have  got  hold  of  the  story 
printed  in  El  Paso  this  morning.  They're  sure  to  have 
correspondents  here.  I  bet  Lady  Di  had  Vandyke  as  a 
hero  served  up  to  her  with  her  coffee  at  breakfast  to-day. 
Wouldn't  she  wire  and  congratulate  him?  Wouldn't  he 
wire  back  to  her,  and  strike  while  the  iron  was  hot,  to  get 
her  promise?  That's  what  I'd  do  if  I  were  in  his  place." 

"I  never  thought "  I  began;  but  no  more  words 

would  come.  I  felt  broken.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  could 
look  ahead  and  see  the  whole  future. 

I  let  my  hand  lie  in  Tony's,  and  he  stroked  it  gently, 


SECRET  HISTORY  149 

not  speaking  or  trying  to  make  me  speak.  Silence  was 
the  only  balm  just  then,  if  balm  there  was,  and  a  loud 
burst  of  music  not  far  off  struck  on  my  brain  like  the  blow 
of  a  hammer. 

We  had  forgotten  all  about  the  torchlight  procession 
which  we  had  come  out  to  see.  But — by  and  by — Tony 
did  not  forget  his  kiss. 


CHAPTER  XII 

IF  I  could,  without  betraying  Tony,  I  should  have 
written  to  Eagle  that  night,  telling  him  just  a  hun 
dredth  part  of  what  I  thought  and  felt.  But  I  was 
bound  by  my  word  to  "keep  dark'*  what  I  had  heard, 
even  from  Eagle  himself,  unless  some  day  Tony  set  me 
free  to  speak.  I  must  seem  to  know  and  believe  what  the 
public  knew  and  believed,  no  more.  But  I  did  write 
cautiously,  saying  how  grieved  I  was  if  he  suffered,  how 
I  should  think  of  him  every  hour,  and  how  I  wished  that 
some  way  might  be  arranged  for  me  to  see  him  by  and  by. 
Could  it  be  managed?  I  asked.  And  I  posted  the  letter 
before  I  went  to  bed,  tired  to  the  heart  and  more  miserable 
than  I  had  ever  been  in  my  life. 

The  next  morning,  before  I  was  out  of  my  room,  a  tele 
gram  was  brought  to  the  door.  It  was  from  Di,  and  said, 
"Am  engaged  to  Major  Vandyke.  He  will  probably  call 
and  tell  you  the  news  himself,  but  thought  I  should  like 
you  to  know  first  from  me.  Please  be  nice  to  him  for  my 
sake.  I  am  very  happy.  What  a  hero  he  is!  Write  me 
all  about  what  happened." 

This  was  a  long,  expensive  message  to  lavish  on  me;  but 
Diana's  days  of  economy  were  over,  and  this  was  the  first 
sign  of  the  change. 

I  boiled  with  anger  against  her,  and  should  have  liked 
to  send  some  of  my  emotions  over  the  telegraph  wire,  but 

150 


SECRET  HISTORY  151 

that  would  have  been  a  childish  way  to  strike.  Besides, 
I  knew  in  my  heart  that  I  was  a  little  unjust.  Di  had 
treated  Eagle  shamefully,  there  was  no  doubt  of  that.  But 
there  was  one  thing  in  her  favour:  she  was  not  conscious 
of  betraying  Eagle  March  in  the  hour  of  danger,  for  she 
knew  about  him  only  what  the  papers  said:  that  he  had 
been  wounded  in  an  accident.  It  was  Major  Vandyke's 
great  exploit  which  had  weighed  down  the  scales  in  his  fa 
vour,  or  influenced  Diana,  anyhow,  to  throw  Eagle  over 
definitely,  and  announce  her  engagement  to  the  "hero/*  I 
telegraphed  back,  "Don't  make  it  public  till  you've  heard 
from  me.  You  may  change  your  mind."  I  folio  wed  the  wire 
with  a  letter,  in  which  I  assured  Di  that  Major  Vandyke  had 
committed  a  crime  against  Eagle  March.  Perhaps  it  would 
be  found  out,  and  then  she  would  be  very  sorry  that  she  had 
promised  to  marry  such  a  man.  I  dared  not  hope  much 
from  my  protest,  however;  so,  two  days  later,  I  wasn't  sur 
prised  to  hear  that  Di  was  disgusted  as  well  as  hurt  by  my 
"wicked  prejudice  against  Sidney."  "You  never  liked 
him,"  she  said,  "but  I  didn't  think  you  would  go  so  far  as 
to  accuse  him  of  crimes.  If  it  weren't  so  silly,  it  would  be 
horrible.  As  it  is,  I  can't  help  laughing ;  but  all  the  same,  be 
careful  what  you  say  to  other  people.  If  you  speak  against 
Sidney  to  strangers,  you  can't  do  him  any  harm,  but  you  will 
do  yourself  a  great  deal,  and  Captain  March,  too.  Sidney 
has  written  me  a  long  letter  telling  me  the  whole  history 
of  that  Thursday  night.  It  has  just  come.  Of  course, 
I  can  repeat  to  nobody  what  he  wrote.  It  was  strictly 
confidential,  though  I  suppose  the  truth  is  bound  to  leak 
out,  more  or  less,  in  future.  Judging  from  your  hints,  I 
suppose  you,  too,  have  heard  something — probably  from 


152  SECRET  HISTORY 

Tony  Dalziel  (whom  I  hope,  by  the  way,  you  are  treating 
better  than  you  did,  as  you're  never  likely  to  get  another 
such  chance).  Naturally  you  believe  the  other  side.  But 
after  the  court-martial  there  won't  be  any  'other  side.' ' 

There  was  just  one  consolation  in  the  next  few  days: 
a  letter  that  came  to  me  from  Eagle.  He  said  not  a  word 
that  any  one  mightn't  have  read,  and  told  me  nothing  about 
himself,  except  that  he  was  "getting  along  very  well"  and 
I  mustn't  spend  a  sad  minute  over  him.  But  he  added: 
"Your  thought  of  me,  and  your  unfailing  friendship,  are 
more  to  me  than  I  can  express.  I  feel  that  nothing  can 
rob  me  of  them,  and  now  and  always  they  will  be  for  me 
like  a  comforting  fire,  at  which  I  can  warm  myself  when 
days  are  cold  and  dark.  I  count  on  you,  my  little  Peggy 
girl,  and  I  know  I  shan't  count  in  vain,  even  though  I  have 
to  say  that  it's  impossible  for  us  to  meet  now,  or  for  some 
time  to  come.  Write  to  me  when  you  feel  like  it.  I  shall 
be  more  than  glad  of  your  letters." 

If  I  had  written  when  I  felt  like  it,  I  should  seldom  have 
had  a  pen  out  of  my  hand;  yet  it  was  hard  to  write.  There 
was  so  little  I  dared,  so  much  I  wished,  to  say.  And  I 
couldn't  mention  Diana.  I  wondered  whether  she  had 
broken  to  him  in  a  letter  the  news  of  her  engagement,  or 
whether  she  had  left  it  for  him  to  discover  by  accident. 
I  felt  that  he  ought  to  be  told,  but  I  couldn't  bear  to  be  the 
one  to  deal  the  blow,  so  I  hedged  when  I  wrote  to  him  next, 
asking,  "Have  you  heard  from  D  .  .  .  lately?" 

He  answered  the  question  briefly  by  the  next  post. 
"  Yes,  I  heard  from  her  on  Saturday."  That  was  all.  No 
comment,  no  word  as  to  his  feelings.  But  he  had  let  me 
see  how  he  loved  her.  He  could  not  help  knowing  that  I 


SECRET  HISTORY  153 

would  understand  what  losing  her  meant  to  him — and 
losing  her  to  Major  Vandyke,  at  such  a  time  and  in  such  a 
way.  Looking  back  at  events,  I  calculated  that  the  blow 
had  fallen  on  Eagle  before  he  answered  my  letter,  and 
this  gave  a  more  pathetic  meaning  to  the  lines  which  I 
intended  always  to  keep. 

Except  for  the  knowledge  that,  powerless  as  I  was,  he 
valued  me,  there  was  no  brightness  in  my  days.  Major 
Vandyke  did  have  the  effrontery  to  come  and  see  me,  as  Di 
had  thought  he  would,  and  I  had  thought  he  wouldn't.  He 
took  me  at  a  disadvantage  by  walking  up  to  me  in  the  hall 
of  the  hotel,  where  I  stood  reading  a  note  from  Tony. 
Warned  by  a  flash  of  my  eyes  as  I  looked  up  at  the  sound 
of  his  voice,  saying,  "How  do  you  do?  "  he  went  on  hastily: 
"Don't  let's  have  a  scene,  please,  for  Diana's  sake,  if  not 
for  your  own.  I  know  how  you  feel,  so  you  needn't  go 
to  the  length  of  telling  me,  or  even  cutting  me,  before 
people.  If  I  hadn't  been  sure  you  were  too  much  of  a 
little  lady  to  make  yourself  conspicuous  in  public,  in  spite 
of  your  feelings,  I  shouldn't  have  risked  surprising  you 
like  this.  I  was  pretty  sure  if  I  didn't  catch  you  unawares 
you  would  refuse  to  see  me.  So  I  had  to  take  some  risk, 
for  I  particularly  want  to  speak  to  you." 

"I  don't  share  your  desire,"  I  said  stiffly.  "You  were 
perfectly  right  in  thinking  I  shouldn't  have  seen  you  if 
you  had  given  me  the  chance  to  refuse.  It's  like  you,  not 
to  have  given  it.  But  you're  right,  too,  when  you  take  it 
for  granted  that  I  won't  make  a  scene.  If  it  could  do  the 
the  slightest  good,  though,  to  any  one  concerned,  I  would ! " 

He  smiled,  a  pale,  unpleasant  smile.  "No  doubt. 
STou'd  be  capable  of  anything.  Here's  the  situation:  I'm 


154  SECRET  HISTORY 

going  to  marry  your  sister,  and  though  you've  tried  your 
best  to  stop  me,  you  can't." 

"I  wonder  any  man,  even  you,  should  want  Diana  after 
the  way  she's  behaved,"  I  said  sullenly. 

"Thanks  for  that  expressive  'even.'  Your  weapons  are 
pretty  sharp,  little  lady!  But  you're  a  child,  and  you're 
Diana's  sister,  so  I  bear  no  malice.  I'm  the  sort  of  man, 
it  happens,  who  doesn't  stop  to  bother  much  about  the 
way  a  very  beautiful  girl  '  behaves  '  to  another  fellow.  I 
love  Diana,  and  I'd  take  her  across  that  other  fellow's 
dead  body  if  she'd  just  stabbed  him." 

"She  has  stabbed  Captain  March,  though  not  mortally, 
I  hope,"  said  I.  "But  she  has  behaved  as  badly  to  you  as 
to  him,  in  a  way." 

"You  mean  the  affair  of  the  photograph,  I  suppose," 
Major  Vandyke  remarked  calmly.  "She  has  explained 
that.  Not  that  I  asked  her  to.  All  I  did  was  to  put  in 
to  a  letter  the  story  of  that  little  scene  in  which  you  were 
mixed  up  in  March's  tent.  She  answered  voluntarily 
that  March  must  have  bribed  the  photographer  to  sell  him 
a  copy,  though  the  man  had  been  given  strict  instructions 
to  print  only  one — for  me.  March  had  begged  her  for  a 
picture,  when  he  heard  from  Mrs.  Main  that  she'd  been 
sitting  for  that  fellow,  who's  supposed  to  be  a  great  artist; 
and  Di  put  him  off  in  some  laughing  way.  I  was  pretty 
certain,  when  I  noticed  there  was  no  signature  on  the 
portrait  March  had,  that  he'd  not  got  the  photograph  from 
Diana  herself.  No  doubt  he  thought  all  fair  in  love  or 
war." 

"  You  judge  him  by  yourself,"  I  said.  "  But  never  mind  I 
I  shan't  ask  you  not  to  believe  Di,  but  to  believe  your  own 


SECRET  HISTORY  155 

common  sense.  Think — or  pretend  to  think  what  you 
like."  - 

"I  shall,"  he  assured  me;  "that's  a  great  principle  of 
mine!  As  a  general  rule  it  makes  for  happiness  and  suc 
cess.  But  we're  getting  away  from  my  object  in  speaking 
to  you,  when  I  know  you're  wishing  me  in  kingdom  come.'* 

"Not  there,"  said  I.  He  laughed  out  aloud,  and  any 
body  looking  at  us  might  have  imagined  us  the  best  of 
friends. 

"What  a  little  devil  you  are!  Where  did  you  inherit 
it  from?" 

"  From  French  chocolate,  perhaps,"  said  I.  "  What  is  it 
you  want  with  me,  Major  Vandyke?  Tell  me,  and  get  it 
over." 

"  I  want  to  know  exactly  what  it  is  in  me  that  you  dis 
like  so  much?" 

"Only  everything." 

"That's  a  large  order,  and  not  very  explicit.  Would 
you  have  disliked  me  if  I  hadn't  interfered  with — a — er — 
a  person  more  to  your  taste;  in  other  words,  with  Captain 
Eagleston  March?" 

"Oh,  of  course,  if  you  hadn't  been  jealous  of  him,  I 
might  have  thought  better  of  your  character.  But  then, 
you  wouldn't  have  been  you." 

"D'you  know,"  drawled  Major  Vandyke,  "I've  a  sort 
of  idea  that  it  was  Captain  March  who  was  jealous  of  me!" 

"It  isn't  in  him  to  be  jealous,  in  the  way  you  mean. 
But  you've  asked  why  I  dislike  you,  and  you  inter 
rupted  me  before  I  could  finish.  '  Dislike  '  is  a  very  small 
word  for  what  I  feel.  I  loathe  you,  because  you've  done 
your  best  to  ruin  him.  There  are  some  things  I  know. 


156  SECRET  HISTORY 

Partly,  I  blame  myself  because  of  what  I  said  to  you  about 
Di  in  camp.  Perhaps — just  perhaps — you  mightn't  have 
done  what  you  have  done  if  I'd  held  my  tongue.  That's 
why,  if  I've  had  a  hand  in  pulling  Eagle  March  down,  I'd 
cut  it  off,  and  the  other  one,  too,  if  I  could  have  a  hand  in 
lifting  him  up." 

"Sounds  complicated — and  Irish!"  sneered  Vandyke. 
"In  your  country  a  man  is  presumed  to  be  innocent  until 
he's  proved  guilty;  yet  you  accuse  me  of  guilt  on  no  proof 
whatever.  Evidently  you've  wormed  things  out  of  Tony 
Dalziel,  and  drawn  your  own  conclusions  to  suit  yourself. 
So  like  a  woman!  But  my  conscience  is  clear  as  crys 
tal.  Personal  feeling  has  had  nothing  to  do  with  my  actions. 
Every  man  will  give  me  credit  for  that.  I'm  sorry  for 
March.  He's  either  insane  with  jealousy,  or  he's  allowed 
himself  to  be  tricked.  Privately,  not  publicly,  of  course, 
I'm  inclined  to  believe  in  the  former  theory;  and  I  think 
most  people  would  agree  with  me  if  they  knew  all  the  cir 
cumstances ' ' 

"As  you  put  them!" 

"Let's  go  back  to  my  object  in  inflicting  myself  upon 
you  to-night,  Lady  Peggy.  Eagleston  March  is  the  god 
of  your  idolatry.  Let's  take  that  for  granted.  He's 
bound  to  suffer.  He  brought  it  on  himself,  whatever  you 
— a  child — may  think  to  the  contrary.  Do  you  want  to 
make  him  suffer  more  or  less?" 

"Is  it  necessary  to  answer?"  I  asked. 

"Hardly.  But  I  have  to  impress  upon  you  that  it's 
partly  in  those  hands  of  yours,  which  you  would  *  cut  off  ' 
for  him.  The  full  immensity  of  his  guilt  need  never  come 
out.  It's  not  intended  that  it  should  come  out.  Still, 


SECRET  HISTORY  157 

if  you  are  going  to  treat  me  like  the  dirt  under  your  feet — 
the  man  who  will  soon  be  your  sister's  husband — and  kick 
up  a  scandal,  I  shan't  lie  still.  I'm  not  a  saint.  If  you 
mean  to  fight  against  me  with  Diana,  or  anybody  else, 
or  even  set  people  talking  by  your  behaviour,  by  Jove! 
I'll  hit  back.  I  shan't  take  much  trouble  to  do  my  part 
in  keeping  the  secret." 

"You're  bound  to  keep  it,  aren't  you?"  I  suggested. 
"Government  doesn't  want  it  to  come  out." 

"That's  the  attitude  at  present.  But  when  relations 
have  been  definitely  and  permanently  smoothed  over  be 
tween  the  United  States  and  Mexico,  it  won't  so  much 
matter  except  for  March  himself.  In  any  case,  I  shan't 
let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag.  I'm  not  such  a  blunderer !  But 
I  tell  you  frankly,  I  can  influence  others  to  keep  the  secret 
after  the  time  limit's  up — or  I  can  refrain  from  using  in 
fluence.  Which  shall  it  be?  Is  it  peace  or  war  between 
us?" 

I  stopped  to  think  for  a  moment,  and  then  I  answered, 
"It's  an  armed  truce." 

We  have  all  heard  quite  a  lot  about  the  mouse  who 
saved  a  lion.  But  it  was  only  one  mouse  out  of  a  world 
crammed  full  of  mice.  I  never  heard,  in  the  whole  history 
of  mice,  since  those  which  Cain  and  Abel  maybe  had  for 
pets,  of  another  mouse  capable  of  saving  any  animal  what 
ever,  even  itself.  Still,  there  remains  that  one  heroic  and 
intelligent  mouse.  When  Sidney  Vandyke  had  left  me  to 
"think  things  over,"  I  envied  it  with  passion,  feeling  that 
I  was  not  even  of  the  mouse  tribe.  I  felt  more  like  a  fly,  if 
you  can  imagine  a  fly  cursed  with  a  human  heart,  who  loves 
an  eagle  that  has  been  shot  in  the  wing  and  caged,  and  the 


158  SECRET  HISTORY 

cage  set  down  on  the  seashore  when  the  night  tide  is  com 
ing  in.  What  could  such  a  fly  do  but  cling  sadly  to  the 
cage  and  buzz  and  let  the  great  rush  of  water  drown  it  with 
the  eagle?  Even  that  fly  seemed  more  fortunate  than  I 
was,  as  I  pictured  it  to  myself.  For  it  was  privileged  to 
rest  on  the  eagle's  cage.  I  could  not  be  near  my  wounded 
eagle ! 

Five  days  after  that  awful  Thursday  night  a  letter 
from  Di  told  me  that  her  engagement  had  "changed  all  her 
plans."  "Sidney"  was  very  impatient,  and  wanted  to  be 
married  soon.  The  moment  his  work  was  over  at  El  Paso 
he  would  get  long  leave,  and  possibly  he  might  make  up  his 
mind  to  resign  from  the  army.  That  was  what  she  wanted 
him  to  do;  and  when  she  had  him  with  her,  she  knew  that 
she  could  persuade  him,  for  he  wasn't  really  "very  keen" 
on  soldiering,  and  she  must  live  in  England,  at  least  half 
the  year  round.  This  part  was  for  the  future  to  de 
cide;  but  in  any  case  there  would  be  the  long  leave.  It 
would  give  time  for  the  wedding  and  the  honeymoon.  She 
had  set  her  heart  on  being  married  at  St.  George's,  for  it 
was  the  "historic"  thing  to  do.  And  there  was  the  trous 
seau.  Kitty  Main  insisted  on  giving  it  to  her  for  a  wed 
ding  present;  which  was  rather  a  weight  off  one's  mind,  as 
America  had  cost  something  in  spite  of  everybody's  being 
so  hospitable  and  good.  Kitty  would  go  to  Paris  with  her, 
and  help  to  choose  the  things,  which  would  be  nicer  than 
having  just  a  sum  down,  and  going  alone.  So  they — Di 
and  Kitty  and  Father — had  all  decided  to  cut  out  the  rest 
of  the  visits  arranged  and  "make  for  home."  California 
had  been  great  fun,  and  Di  wished  she  might  stop  longer, 
but  one  couldn't  have  one's  cake  and  eat  it,  too.  Being 


SECRET  HISTORY  159 

married  was  her  cake.     This  was  her  mistake.     As  I  have 
said  before,  she  had  always  had  both. 

Major  Vandyke's  "work  in  El  Paso"  was  to  bear  witness 
against  Eagle  March  in  the  court-martial  which  would  come 
on  almost  at  once.  And  I  was  to  go  away  without  hearing 
the  verdict  or  seeing  Eagle  after  all  was  over. 

Di  had  written  to  Mrs.  Dalziel,  too,  it  appeared,  and 
Milly  was  only  too  glad  of  an  excuse  to  escape  from  the 
the  place  where  Captain  March's  society  had  been  the 
first  and  only  attraction  for  her. 

"Now  that  Tony's  time  is  so  dreadfully  taken  up,"  she 
said  to  her  mother,  "he  can't  give  us  any  fun,  or  have  any 
fun  with  us  himself,  so  we  might  as  well  go  away.  Let's, 
dear  f  Let's  clear  out  to-morrow,  and  take  Peggy  to  meet 
Lady  Di  and  the  others  at  Albuquerque,  where  we  can 
get  into  the  *  Limited'  and  join  them." 

"I  don't  know  what  Tony  will  say!"  wavered  Mrs. 
Dalziel,  who  was  finding  El  Paso  rather  hot  in  those  days, 
for  plump  people.  She  looked  at  me.  So  did  Milly.  Then 
Milly  laughed.  "No  good  pretending  we've  got  cotton 
wool  over  our  eyes,"  she  exclaimed.  "Can't  you  make 
up  your  mind  to  take  my  poor,  dear  little  brother,  Peggy, 
and  put  him  out  of  his  misery?" 

"Tony  and  I  understand  each  other  already,"  I  said. 

"Do  you?  Oh,  I'm  so  glad,  so  pleased,"  they  both  cried 
together.  And  I  had  to  explain  in  a  violent  hurry, 
before  I  had  been  caressed  under  false  pretences,  that 
there  are  understandings  and  understandings.  Tony's 
and  mine  was  the  kind  of  understanding  which  left  us 
both  perfectly  free;  the  kind  of  understanding  where  you 


160  SECRET  HISTORY 

didn't  make  up  your  mind,  but  just  waited  to  see  whether 
it  made  itself  up. 

"Isn't  there  anything  between  you  and  the  poor  boy, 
then?"  implored  the  boy's  mother. 

"Only — a  kiss,"  I  said.  "One — on  a  cheek.  My 
cheek." 

"Well,  that's  something,"  she  sighed.  "At  least,  it 
was  when  I  was  a  girl." 

It  was  not  much  to  me,  though  it  might  have  been  to  a 
better  regulated  flapper.  I  couldn't  dwell  on  such  trifles 
as  kisses.  I  thought  only  of  the  coming  court-martial. 


CHAPTER  XIII 


f  •  ^HE  "understanding"  remained  in  statu  quo  (what 
ever  that  means;  the  expression  was  his)  between 

-"-  Tony  and  me,  when  Mrs.  Dalziel  and  Milly  and  I 
turned  our  backs  on  El  Paso.  We  had  a  night  at  Albu 
querque,  which  made  me  homesick  for  past  days,  because 
the  hotel  where  we  stopped  had  the  name  of  Alvarado. 
I  hadn't  known  that  I  was  happy  at  the  Springs,  but  in 
looking  back  it  seemed  as  though  I  must  have  been  with 
out  a  care. 

Milly  and  her  mother  bought  wonderful  Indian  curios 
and  gorgeous  Mexican  opals  and  silver  spoons  set  with 
turquoises  at  Albuquerque,  and  Milly  was  almost  feverishly 
gay;  but  I  guessed  that  at  heart,  if  she  had  an  organ  worth 
the  name,  she  was  nearly  as  wretched  as  I.  For  she  had 
failed;  and  she  had  let  the  venom  of  her  spite  poison  her 
nature,  trying  to  tell  herself  that  she  rejoiced  because  of 
Eagle's  misfortunes,  and  that  it  was  very  good,  as  things 
turned  out,  to  be  free  of  him  and  his  fate.  No  one  can 
really  be  happy  with  such  poison  in  the  veins,  and  there 
can't  possibly  be  deep-down,  soul-satisfying  enjoyment 
from  revelling  in  another's  misfortunes.  Underneath 
my  fury,  when  Milly  said  little  veiled,  spiteful  things  about 
Captain  March,  was  pity  for  her,  the  kind  of  pity  you  have 
for  an  irritable  invalid  who  snaps. 

When  Father  and  Mrs.  Main  and  Diana  (Di  in  great 

161 


162  SECRET  HISTORY 

beauty)  came  to  Albuquerque  on  the  "Limited,"  and  we 
three  took  up  our  quarters  in  staterooms  on  board,  Milly 
Dalziel  and  Di  struck  up  a  great  friendship,  almost  as  if 
they  were  new  acquaintances  who  had  just  been  introduced 
and  fallen  in  love  with  each  other's  unexpectedly  charming 
qualities.  This  was  quite  funny,  because  Milly  had  found 
it  hard  work  to  be  civil  to  Di  at  Alvarado  Springs,  and  Di 
had  been  rather  contemptuously  amused  at  Milly's  badly 
disguised  jealousy.  Now,  with  Eagle  March  eliminated 
from  the  scheme  of  life  for  both  of  them,  each  discovered 
that  the  other  was  a  delightful  creature. 

Milly  accounted  to  me  for  her  change  of  mind  by  ex 
claiming:  "I  do  think  Lady  Di  has  got  heaps  prettier  since 
she  went  to  California,  don't  you?  And  she's  just  as 
sweet  as  she's  pretty.  Perhaps  it's  being  engaged  to  the 
man  she  loves  that  has  made  the  difference.  And  no  won 
der,  with  such  a  gorgeous  lover  as  Major  Vandyke !  He's 
something  to  be  proud  of — even  for  a  beauty  and  a  'swell' 
like  your  sister." 

Di  accounted  for  the  change  in  her  mind  by  saying  to 
me:  "I  don't  know  what  you've  done  to  that  Dalziel  girl, 
Peggy,  but  you  seem  to  have  made  her  all  over.  She  used 
to  be  a  thorough-paced  cat.  Now  she's  quite  a  darling, 
and  if  you're  ever  sensible  enough  to  marry  Tony,  I  shall 
love  to  have  such  a  fascinating  sister-in-law.  I've  asked 
her  to  be  one  of  my  bridesmaids." 

I  suppose  changing  your  mind  often  is  a  good,  clean 
thing  for  your  soul,  just  as  changing  your  clothes  is  for 
your  body. 

We  had  a  few  hours  to  flash  round  Chicago  in  a  motor 
car,  seeing  pretty,  young-looking  parks,  and  a  great  lake 


SECRET  HISTORY  163 

like  the  sea  with  wonderful  buildings  along  its  shore,  and 
a  sky  like  a  painting  by  Turner.  I  was  bitterly  disap 
pointed  not  to  get  the  telegram  Tony  had  promised  to  send, 
addressed  to  the  Blackstone  Hotel,  where  it  had  been  ar 
ranged  beforehand  that  we  should  lunch  and  dine.  The 
court-martial  was  to  have  been  held  on  the  eighth  day 
after  Eagle  March's  arrest,  the  day  before  our  arrival  in 
Chicago,  and  meanwhile  I  had  lived  only  for  the  telegram. 
My  impatience  to  know  the  worst — or  best — had  been  like 
a  flame  in  my  blood  and  brain.  When  it  was  time  to  take 
the  fast  train  to  New  York  in  the  evening,  and  no  tele 
gram  had  come,  it  seemed  as  if  that  flame  gave  a  devour 
ing  leap,  and  then  went  out,  leaving  my  body  a  burnt-up 
shell. 

The  next  morning  we  were  in  New  York,  where  Mr. 
Dalziel  met  his  wife  and  Milly.  I  hoped  that  he  might 
have  read  some  news  of  El  Paso  in  the  morning  papers, 
and  that  he  would  spring  it  upon  us  in  the  railway  station 
where  we  paused,  being  charming  and  affectionate  to  each 
other,  and  making  plans  to  meet  again  before  our  party 
sailed.  I  couldn't  have  questioned  him  to  save  my  life, 
any  more  than  I  could  have  cried  out  in  fearful  nightmares 
which  I  remembered,  when  the  earth  was  about  to  swallow 
me  up,  or  a  mountain  fall  on  to  my  head.  Surely,  I 
thought,  if  there  were  news  about  the  court-martial  it 
would  be  interesting  enough  to  the  Dalziel  family  for  the 
man  to  mention  it,  if  only  because  Tony  was  to  be  a  wit 
ness  in  the  case!  But  the  affair  might  have  been  more 
remote  from  us  all  than  a  destructive  tidal  wave  in  China, 
judging  by  Mr.  Dalziel's  oblivion  of  it.  He  and  Father 
talked  about  our  luck  in  grabbing  cabins  at  short  notice  on 


164  SECRET  HISTORY 

the  Mauretania\  his  wife  and  Mrs.  Main  discussed  getting 
seats  for  that  night  at  D'Annunzio's  great  moving-picture 
play,  which  had  come  on  at  a  theatre  in  New  York;  his 
daughter  and  Diana  chatted  about  the  earliest  date  when 
Milly  could  persuade  her  mother  to  sail  for  England.  I 
longed  to  scream  at  them,  "Oh,  you  hard,  unfeeling 
wretches!"  But  instead  I  stood  outwardly  patient,  a 
good,  well-behaved  young  girl  with  a  little  mincing  smile 
on  my  face.  Only  the  smile  was  frozen  so  hard  you  could 
have  knocked  it  off  with  a  hammer. 

We  were  going  to  Kitty  Main's  flat,  which  she  called  her 
"apartment,"  and  the  Dalziels  were  going  to  their  house, 
but  it  was  not  to  be  a  regular  parting.  We  were  to 
dine  with  them  (somehow  the  idea  was  borne  in  upon  me 
that  dear  Mrs.  Dalziel  wanted  naughty,  shilly-shallying 
Peggy  to  see  what  lovely  surroundings  might  be  hers  as 
Tony's  wife) ;  all  of  us  were  to  lunch  next  day  at  Delmoni- 
co's,  as  Kitty's  guests;  the  Dalziels  were  to  motor  us  over 
to  Long  Island  for  a  glimpse  of  their  country  place  there; 
and  they  were  to  see  us  off  on  the  Mauretania.  But  that 
would  not  be  until  five  days  had  passed.  Meanwhile, 
there  would  be  time  for  telegrams  and  even  letters  from 
El  Paso. 

At  last,  after  all  the  noisy  planning  of  things  to  do,  the 
two  parties  contrived  to  tear  themselves  from  one  another, 
and  we  got  away  from  the  wonderful  station  in  Mrs.  Main's 
motor  car,  which  had  come  to  meet  us — a  most  impres 
sive  motor  car  which  needed  only  a  coronet  or  at  worst  a 
crest,  on  its  door.  Perhaps,  however,  judging  from  present 
signs,  that  lack  might  be  supplied  later. 

Her  "apartment"  was  in  a  marvellously  ornate  sky- 


SECRET  HISTORY  165 

scraper;  a  huge  brown  block  like  a  plum  cake  for  a  Titan 
tea  party,  which  would  have  made  Buckingham  Palace  or 
any  other  royal  residence  in  Europe  look  a  toy.  It  was 
in  the  highest  story,  according  to  Kitty  the  most  desirable, 
because  you  had  all  the  air  there  and  none  of  the  noise; 
just  like  living  on  a  mountain,  with  a  lift  to  the  top.  I 
wondered  what  she  would  think  of  poor  old  Ballyconal, 
when  she  came  to  see  it! 

The  first  thing  I  did  was  to  wire  my  temporary  address 
to  Tony,  and  hate  myself  because  I  hadn't  done  it  before. 
Until  I  met  Father  and  Di  I  didn't  know  where  we  were  to 
stay  in  New  York,  for  everything  had  been  settled  through 
letters  and  telegrams,  with  as  little  useful  information  as 
possible.  If  I  had  remembered  in  Chicago  that  Tony  had 
no  idea  where  I  would  be  in  New  York,  there  need  have 
been  no  more  delay  in  my  getting  the  news.  But  some 
thing  seemed  to  be  strangely  wrong  at  his  end  of  the  line, 
for  even  when  there  had  been  time  for  him  to  get  my  tele 
gram  and  send  another,  no  answer  came.  Nothing  arrived 
for  Di,  either;  but  apparently  she  was  expecting  no  wire. 
She  must  have  had  some  human  curiosity,  if  not  anxiety, 
to  know  the  fate  of  a  man  who  had  been  as  much  to  her 
as  Eagle  March  had  been;  but  she  was  thinking  of  his 
trial,  I  suppose,  entirely  from  Sidney  Vandyke's  point  of 
view,  and  she  had  no  uneasiness  as  to  the  result  for  Sidney. 
As  for  the  papers,  though  I  quite  cleverly  managed  to  find 
other  things  than  football  news,  I  could  discover  nothing 
about  the  court-martial  on  Captain  March.  I  had  to  tell 
myself  that  perhaps  they  didn't  put  such  affairs  in  news 
papers,  for  I  was  too  ignorant  to  think  of  trying  to  hunt 
up  the  army  and  navy  official  journals. 


166  SECRET  HISTORY 

We  had  been  three  days  in  New  York  in  great  heat, 
which  Kitty  took  pains  to  tell  us  was  most  unseasonable, 
when  one  morning  a  thunderstorm  accompanied  by  terrific 
wind  came  up,  preventing  us  from  going  out  as  we  had 
intended.  Kitty's  floor  at  the  top  of  the  building,  with 
its  steel  supports,  actually  gave  the  effect  of  swaying  in 
the  blast  like  an  overgrown  spear  of  wheat,  a  phenome 
non  Kitty  took  as  a  matter  of  course.  So  we  Britishers 
had  to  do  the  same,  no  matter  how  we  felt,  to  show  that 
we  were  as  brave  as  Americans.  In  the  midst  of  the  storm 
the  postman's  ring  sounded  reassuringly,  as  if  to  say  that 
we  were  not  cut  off  from  earth;  and  a  calm  maid,  used  to 
hanging  on  insectlike  by  her  antennae  to  the  top  grain 
on  the  wheat  stalk,  quietly  presented  a  silver  tray  with 
letters  to  her  mistress. 

"One  for  dear  Diana,"  Kitty  announced,  picking  up 
a  large  purple-sealed  and  monogrammed  envelope,  such 
as  Sidney  Vandyke  had  made  peculiarly  his  own.  And  I 
had  only  time  for  a  heartbeat  before  she  added,  "Two  for 
little  Peggy!" 

I  never  much  relished  being  patronized  as  "little  Peggy" 
by  my  would-be  stepmother,  but  she  might  safely  have 
called  me  anything  from  a  pterodactyl  to  a  hippopotamus 
just  then.  I  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  uppermost  en 
velope  of  the  two  as  she  doled  the  letters  out.  In  a  flash 
I  knew  that  Eagle  March  had  written  to  me. 

Just  to  save  the  scarlet  flag  my  cheeks  flung  out  from 
Father's  stare,  I  pretended  great  interest  in  the  other 
envelope.  It  had  been  addressed  to  me  by  Tony. 

"My  letter  is  from  Sidney.  I  thought  I  should  have 
one  from  him  to-day,"  said  Di,  with  the  brazen  boldness 


SECRET  HISTORY  167 

of  the  legitimately  engaged  girl  who  has  a  right  to  expose 
her  feelings.  "Now  he'll  tell  me,  perhaps,  when  he  will 
be  able  to  get  leave  and  follow  us." 

She  proceeded  to  tear  open  the  envelope  in  the  ruthless 
violating  way  of  which  I  could  never  be  guilty  except  with  a 
soulless  circular.  A  letter  from  a  lover,  or  a  friend,  full  of 
thoughts  and  touched  by  a  dear  hand,  is  too  sacred  for  such 
usage.  Fearing  from  Di's  expression  that  she  would  be 
capable  of  reading  aloud  choice  selections  from  Major  Van 
dyke's  version  of  events,  I  simply  couldn't  stay  to  risk 
hearing  them.  I  jumped  up  and  fled  with  my  two  prizes. 

Locked  safely  in  my  room,  delicately  I  cut  the  edge  of 
Eagle's  envelope.  I  was  on  the  point  of  drawing  out  the 
letter,  which  appeared  to  be  meagrely  thin,  when  some 
thing  within  me  seemed  to  faint.  Reading  what  he  had  to 
say,  I  should  know  in  a  very  few  words,  I  was  sure,  the  fate 
to  which  he  looked  forward.  There  would  be  no  working 
up,  no  preamble,  to  prepare  my  mind.  I  wasn't  strong 
enough  to  bear  it.  I  should  have  to  take  Tony's  letter 
first,  like  a  dose  of  sal  volatile. 

"Dear,  dear  Peggy,"  my  benevolent  Billiken  addressed 
me,  and  as  I  read,  the  thunder  rolled  like  the  far-away 
drums  of  Fort  Alvarado  or  El  Paso.  "This  is  my  first  real 
letter  to  you,  for  I  don't  count  notes;  and  I  wish  it  could  be 
a  better  one.  I'm  afraid  you  must  be  pretty  mad  about 
not  getting  a  telegram  at  Chicago,  or  anyhow  at  Mrs. 
Main's,  when  you'd  taken  all  the  trouble  to  wire  me  your 
address.  But  it  was  intimated  to  all  of  us  concerned  that 
we  weren't  to  telegraph  news  about  you  know  what  to  our 
families  or  friends,  and  that  we  were  even  to  be  discreet 
about  our  letters.  I've  been  so  indiscreet  with  you  on  that 


168  SECRET  HISTORY 

subject  already,  on  a  never-to-be-forgotten  night,  however, 
that  the  latter  bit  of  fatherly  instruction  doesn't  hold  good 
in  my  case.  Only,  before  telling  you  what  I  have  to  tell,  I'll 
just  take  the  liberty  of  reminding  you  once  again  of  your 
promise  to  keep  mum  till  Gabriel's  trumpet  sounds — or  till 
I  take  off  the  embargo  (is  that  the  way  to  spell  it,  I  wonder, 
and  what  exactly  does  it  mean?).  As  matters  look  at  pres 
ent,  one  thing  is  liable  to  happen  about  the  same  time  as 
the  other.  Well,  now  I'm  going  to  tell  you  news  of  the 
court-martial  as  best  I  can.  I'm  no  great  shakes  at  telling 
things,  you  know.  Vandyke  was  'seedy'  (as  you  say  in 
your  truly  British  fashion)  the  day  appointed  for  the  trial, 
and  as  he  was  the  principal  witness  it  had  to  be  put  off  for 
twenty-four  hours.  You'd  have  thought  it  would  be 
March,  if  anybody,  who  was  on  the  sick  list,  wouldn't  you? 
But  he  was  all  right  in  health.  I  don't  know  what  was  the 
matter  with  Vandyke,  except  that  I  happened  to  hear  our 
old  Doc  say  he  had  a  temperature  way  up  in  C.  Maybe 
it  was  stage  fright.  I  felt  like  that  myself — queer  all  over 
when  the  time  came,  as  a  fellow  does  when  he's  just  going 
to  be  seasick. 

"The  court-martial  was  what  you  call  a  'field-general 
court-martial/  which  can  be  convened  when  forces  are  on 
active  service,  as  of  course  we  are  now  (though  we've  had 
nothing  very  active  to  do,  except  on  a  certain  night  none  of 
us  will  forget,  and  on  Army  Day  when  we  all  marched  and 
sweated  to  give  the  populace  an  impressive  show) .  A  field 
general  court-martial  can  try  cases  just  as  grave  as  a 
general  court-martial  can,  and  its  proceedings  are  con 
ducted  with  more  secrecy.  It  consists  of  not  less  than 
three  officers,  none  of  them  under  the  rank  of  captain,  but 


SECRET  HISTORY  169 

the  president  of  the  court  may  be  a  general  officer,  a 
colonel,  or  lieutenant-colonel.  In  this  case,  which  was 
considered  very  important,  both  on  account  of  March's 
fine  record  and  the  necessary  secrecy  that  had  to  be  main 
tained,  we  had  the  general  commanding  the  Fort  for  presi 
dent,  and  the  other  two  officers  of  the  court  were  a  colonel 
and  a  major.  I  don't  think  you  met  either  of  them  when 
you  were  here,  so  their  names  wouldn't  interest  you. 

"The  courtroom  was  just  a  plain  ordinary  room  in  the 
barracks  at  Fort  Bliss;  but  there  wasn't  a  map  or  copy  of 
*  rules  and  regulations '  hanging  on  the  yellowish  white  walls 
that  I  can't  see  now,  whenever  I  shut  my  eyes.  I  guess 
they  were  all  photographed  on  my  *  mental  retina,'  as  the 
writing  folks  say.  The  three  officers  were  in  full  uniform, 
to  do  honour  to  the  case,  and  of  course  there  wasn't  a  man 
present  dressed  in  'cits.'  All  were  army  chaps,  even  to  the 
headquarters  clerk  who  took  notes  of  the  proceedings,  the 
orderly  who  kept  the  door,  and  the  witnesses.  There 
weren't  many  of  those.  I  was  one  of  the  principal  witnesses 
and  you've  heard  from  me  before  how  little  I  had  to  say. 

"March,  who  as  prisoner  had  to  be  formally  conducted  in 
by  an  officer,  had  a  seat  on  the  left  of  the  judges'  table,  and 
his  friend,  Major  Dell,  sat  beside  him.  If  you  could  have 
been  a  fly  on  that  beastly  wall,  looking  down  at  your  hero, 
I  guess  you'd  have  been  proud  of  the  way  he  held  himself. 
If  he'd  been  brought  there  to  receive  a  medal  of  honour  in 
stead  of  to  be  tried  for  a  big,  insane  sort  of  offence  calculated 
to  bring  about  international  complications  he  couldn't 
have  had  a  prouder  bearing.  And  he  wasn't  even  pale. 
He  looked  just  brown  and  calm  and  natural.  I  had  to  con 
fess  to  when  you  asked  me  a  point-blank  question  that 


170  SECRET  HISTORY 

night  in  the  park,  that  I  was  all  muddled  up  in  my  mind 
about  his  conduct  in  ordering  the  gunfire.  I  didn't  know 
whether  he'd  gone  off  his  chump,  or  been  fooled,  or  what. 
But  I  can  tell  you  one  thing:  I  felt  proud  of  him  as  a  man 
and  as  my  superior  officer  when  I  saw  the  way  he  bore  him 
self  for  his  trial.  I  don't  know  now  the  rights  of  the  matter 
any  more  than  I  did  then,  in  spite  of  the  court's  findings; 
but  something  tells  me — as  girls  say — that  March  wasn't  to 
blame.  There's  a  black  mystery  in  this,  and  I  don't  see 
how  it's  ever  going  to  be  cleared  up,  as  things  are.  But  to 
go  back  to  the  court-martial. 

"March  was  accused  by  the  prosecutor  of  having  fired 
without  orders  three  charges  from  field  guns  into  a  country 
living  at  peace  with  the  United  States,  to  the  detriment 
of  its  inhabitants  and  property,  and  to  the  imminent 
peril  of  disturbing  international  relations.  He  could  have 
objected  legally  to  any  of  the  judges  and  stated  his 
objections.  But  he  didn't  object  to  them,  nor  to  the  short 
hand-writer,  whom  he  had  a  right  to  throw  out  if  he  could 
show  reasons  for  thinking  that  the  man  was  likely  to  be 
partial  in  his  notes  of  the  proceedings. 

"Of  course,  I  as  a  mere  witness  wasn't  present  all  the 
time;  but  I  know  what  took  place,  because  I've  heard  some 
of  it  from  different  quarters.  I  know  that  when  '  the  court 
had  been  duly  sworn,  the  accused  was  arraigned,'  which 
means  that  the  president  read  out  the  charges  against 
March,  and  asked  him  whether  he  pleaded  guilty  or  not 
guilty.  Can't  you  just  hear  March  answering  steadily  in 
that  pleasant,  quiet  voice  of  his :  '  Not  guilty ! '  The  next 
thing  to  follow  was  the  prosecutor's  address,  outlining  the 
case  against  the  prisoner,  and  mentioning  the  witnesses  he 


SECRET  HISTORY  171 

meant  to  summon.  Then  he  called  the  evidence  for  the 
prosecution,  and  that's  where,  as  I've  heard  from  other 
witnesses,  those  present  got  their  first  big  surprise. 

"Naturally  there'd  been  no  end  of  whispering  among 
those  in  the  know  before  the  court  met;  and  it  was  discussed 
whether  or  not  March  would  bring  into  his  defence  the 
state  of  feeling  between  Vandyke  and  himself.  Some 
thought  he  would  be  justified  in  doing  so,  and  quixotic  not 
to,  as  the  bad  blood  between  them,  and  the  cause  of  it  (I 
hope  you  don't  mind  my  saying  this?)  was  already  a  sort  of 
open  secret.  Others  argued  that  if  the  ill-feeling  were  once 
lugged  in,  the  name  of  the  lady  concerned  and  other  details 
would  certainly  be  dragged  into  the  case  through  inquiries 
which  would  have  to  be  made;  and  that  March  wasn't  the 
man  to  run  such  a  risk  even  if  it  were  likely  to  do  him  any 
good.  The  surprise  of  the  court  came  when  Vandyke  ac 
cused  March  of  giving  the  order  for  firing  the  guns  with 
out  authority,  but  deliberately  putting  the  responsibility 
on  him — Vandyke — with  the  object  of  ruining  him.  Did 
you  ever  know  the  like  of  that? 

"From  one  way  of  looking  at  the  thing,  it  was  a  jolly 
smart  way  for  Vandyke  to  turn  the  tables,  because  it  would 
take  all  the  wind  out  of  March's  sails,  in  case  he  meant 
to  accuse  Vandyke  of  the  same  intention  toward  him.  I 
don't  suppose  there  ever  was  such  a  queer  case  between 
officers  as  this  one;  both  men  highly  placed  and  popular  in 
the  service  and  society. 

"I  believe  March  brought  out  his  notebook  in  evidence 
(the  khaki-coloured  one  with  his  monogram  on  it  in  silver, 
which  I'd  often  seen,  and  which  you  say  you  gave  him)  to 
show  the  newly  torn-out  leaf;  and  his  friend,  Major  Dell, 


172  SECRET  HISTORY 

who  was  his  classmate  at  West  Point  (youVe  seen  him  here; 
fine-looking  cavalry  chap),  suggested  that  the  page  under 
neath  should  be  examined  with  a  magnifying  glass  for  the 
impression  of  writing  on  the  missing  page  with  a  blunt 
pencil  which  had  borne  heavily  on  the  paper.  No  words 
could  be  definitely  made  out,  even  with  the  magnifier,  and 
even  if  they  could  have  been,  I'm  afraid  that  wouldn't  have 
made  much  difference  in  the  case.  March  had  had  the 
notebook  in  his  possession  after  the  gunfiring,  you  see,  and 
could  easily  have  written  what  he  liked  and  then  torn  out 
the  leaf. 

"Vandyke's  orderly  being  dead,  there  was  no  evidence  as 
to  the  part  he  had  played  for  either  side;  but  I  suppose  he 
would  have  been  a  witness  for  the  prosecution,  so  his  dis 
appearance  off  the  scene  was  perhaps  a  good  thing  for 
March.  I  was  called  for  the  defence,  but  nothing  I  had  to 
say  was  of  any  good.  I  felt  that;  and  being  keen  to  serw* 
March's  interest  if  I  could  with  truth,  put  such  a  strain  on 
me  to  be  careful  of  each  word  that  you  could  have  knocked 
me  down  with  a  feather  after  I  was  released.  When  my 
evidence  was  read  over  (they  always  do  that  to  every 
witness  before  he  leaves  the  court)  it  seemed  to  me  I'd 
given  the  most  rotten  answers  every  time;  but  I  couldn't 
have  made  them  any  better  if  I'd  tried  to  explain  them 
away,  or  amend  them  as  I  should  have  had  the  right  to  do; 
so  I  let  them  go  as  they  were. 

"March  cross-examined  me  himself,  about  the  distance 
he  was  from  the  guns  when  the  orderly  was  supposed  to 
come  up;  and  the  darkness  of  the  night;  and  the  nature  of 
the  ground  for  muffling  the  sound  of  footsteps.  He  didn't 
seem  a  bit  disgusted  or  hurt  with  me  because  I  could  not  do 


SECRET  HISTORY  173 

better  for  his  case.  He  had  a  real  friendly  look  in  his  eyes 
whenever  they  met  mine;  and  I  tell  you,  Peggy,  I  could 
have  blubbed  like  a  kid  when  I  thought  of  it  later,  after  I 
knew  what  the  verdict  was. 

"Once  I  saw  him  cross  glances  with  Vandyke,  and  if  you 
won't  think  I'm  getting  sentimental  on  top  of  all  the  rest, 
I'll  tell  you  I  thought  March's  look  was  like  a  sword.  Van 
dyke  was  yellow  and  bloodshot  as  if  he'd  had  a  bilious 
attack,  and  perhaps  bile  had  been  the  trouble  when  he  went 
on  sick  report  and  the  case  had  to  be  delayed  for  him. 

"The  findings  were  considered  in  closed  court.  And 
now  you  must  take  this  one  bit  of  comfort  to  yourself, 
Peggy,  in  your  trouble  about  your  friend  Captain  March : 
things  might  have  gone  a  lot  harder  for  him  than  they  did 
in  such  a  serious  case.  Vandyke's  accusation  against  him 
was  mighty  bad,  and  there  was  some  evidence  to  support 
it.  March  didn't  seem  to  use  such  weapons  as  he  had  to 
hit  back  with,  quite  as  smartly  as  he  might  have  done, 
though  that  was,  no  doubt,  in  his  determination  to  keep 
your  sister's  name  from  coming  into  the  affair.  He  did  de 
fend  himself  to  the  extent  of  saying  he'd  tried  to  save  the 
situation  by  firing  blank  instead  of  shell;  but  that  didn't 
help  him  much,  for  the  whole  point  of  the  accusation  against 
him  was  that  he  had  had  no  right  to  fire  at  all.  None  of  his 
witnesses  could  help  him  any  more  than  I  could,  whereas 
Vandyke  had  several  who  took  their  oath  to  seeing  him  in 
the  auto  with  his  orderly,  leaving  old  Fort  Bliss  at  much 
about  the  time  when  March  said  Johnson  came  to  him  with 
the  second  verbal  order.  March  could  have  been  sentenced 
to  imprisonment  or  chucked  out  of  the  army  if  the  court 
had  believed  in  his  giving  the  order  to  fire  the  guns  on  his 


174  SECRET  HISTORY 

own  responsibility  out  of  sheer  madness,  or  spite  against 
Vandyke.  As  it  was,  they  accepted  the  theory  that  he  had 
been  hoaxed  by  some  one  unknown,  purporting  to  be  the 
orderly  of  Major  Vandyke,  then  acting  as  colonel.  Owing 
to  the  comparative  darkness  of  the  night  (luckily  there 
wasn't  a  moon,  only  stars)  it  would  have  been  possible  for 
a  nervous,  jumpy  man  to  mistake  the  identity  of  a  person 
masquerading  as  another  person.  Now  you  know,  and  I 
know,  and  everybody  who  knows  him  knows  March  is  the 
last  fellow  in  the  world  to  get  nerves  or  jumps  in  any  cir 
cumstances  whatever.  All  the  same,  giving  him  credit  for 
them  on  a  night  when  a  Mexican  raid  on  the  town  had  been 
predicted  offered  the  court  an  excuse  to  let  the  accused 
down  lightly.  He  was  sentenced  merely  to  'severe  censure 
for  rashness  and  carelessness/  etc.,  etc.  In  sequence  to  this 
our  Old  Man — the  colonel,  I  mean — has  had  to  advise 
March  to  resign.  That's  part  of  the  programme.  And 
equally  it  is  part  of  the  programme  that  March  should  take 
the  advice. 

"Now,  dear,  I've  told  you  the  story  as  well  or  as  badly 
as  I  can.  Anyhow,  you  know  as  much  as  I  do,  and  that  is 
a  good  deal  more  than  you  ought  to  know,  or  others  are 
likely  to  know.  If  you  hear  anything  further,  it  will  be 
from  March  himself. 

"When  the  Mexican  bees  have  settled  down  in  their  hive 
again,  and  we're  back  at  Fort  Alvarado,  I'm  going  to  have 
a  good  try  for  a  month's  leave  or  longer,  so  as  to  cross  the 
blue  with  the  mater  and  sis.  Of  course,  entirely  with 
the  object  of  looking  after  them,  and  perhaps  getting 
an  invitation  to  Lady  Di's  wedding,  and  not  a  bit 
for  the  sake  of  seeing  you  or  jogging  your  memory 


SECRET  HISTORY  175 

about  a  certain  decision!  Yours  till  the  end  of  beyond, 
Billiken." 

For  a  while,  after  I  had  read  this  long  letter  through,  to 
the  accompaniment  of  thunder,  lightning,  and  rain,  I  sat 
with  the  four  closely  written  sheets  of  paper  in  my  hand, 
not  thinking,  only  feeling.  I  could  not  console  myself  with 
"the  one  bit  of  comfort"  which  Tony  waved  under  my 
eyes.  Eagle  March  was  a  born  soldier.  He  cared  more 
for  his  career  than  for  his  life,  and  it  had  been  taken  from 
him.  Though  the  world  was  not  to  know  what  he  was 
accused  of  doing,  all  the  world  would  know  that  he  had  left 
the  army  because  his  country  no  longer  needed  his  services. 
And  he  owed  this  to  his  love  for  my  sister !  This  was  what 
Diana  and  I  had  brought  upon  the  bravest  and  best  man. 
we  should  ever  meet. 

"What  will  he  do?  What  will  become  of  him?"  I 
asked  myself  miserably;  and  the  rain  beating  on  the  window 
seemed  to  give  a  desolating  answer.  But  there  was  still 
the  letter  I  had  waited  to  read  until  I  learned  the  best  or 
worst  from  Tony.  Perhaps  that  would  tell  me  what  I 
wished  to  know ! 


CHAPTER  XIV 

EAGLE  MARCH'S  letter  was  characteristic.  Though 
he  must  have  felt  as  if  he  stood  alone,  at  the  jump- 
ing-off  place  of  the  world,  he  had  more  to  say  about 
me  than  of  himself. 

He  had  read  in  the  El  Paso  papers  that  I  was  going  to 
sail  for  England,  and  all  the  first  part  of  his  letter  was  con 
cerned  with  "bon  voyage."  It  was  only  in  the  last  para 
graph  that  he  mentioned  his  own  affairs.  "You'll  have 
heard  already,"  he  said, "  of  what  has  happened  to  me.  I've 
had  a  blow,  but  I'm  not  going  to  lie  down  under  it.  There 
must  be  work  for  me  somewhere,  and  when  I've  found  it 
you'll  hear  from  me  again.  Not  until  then  though,  for 
I'm  rather  hard  hit,  and  might  be  inclined  to  grumble.  But 
I  shall  think  of  you  constantly,  and  I  don't  believe  if  I 
wrote  a  volume  I  could  make  you  understand  how  much 
the  thought  will  help.  I  shall  wear  it  like  armour." 

Not  a  word  of  Diana.  But  I  read  between  the  lines. 
He  was  "rather  hard  hit."  Just  when  he  was  facing  an 
attack  from  the  front  she  had  stabbed  him  in  the  back.  In 
one  way,  the  letter  was  a  bitter  disappointment,  for  I  had 
longed  to  be  told  Eagle's  plans;  yet  in  the  hint  that  I  should 
hear  again  when  he  had  "found  work,"  there  was  a  thrill 
like  that  which  comes  with  martial  music.  I  was  far  from 
guessing  then  what  that  work  would  be,  and  how  quickly 
and  surprisingly  he  would  find  it;  but  vaguely  I  felt  that 

176 


SECRET  HISTORY  177 

there  was  only  one  kind  of  work  worth  Eagle  March's 
while :  soldier  work. 

Because  I  mustn't  expect  to  hear,  that  did  not  prevent 
my  writing  from  the  ship.  "This  isn't  'good-bye,' "  I  said. 
"Always  I'll  be  looking  forward  to  great  things  for  you. 
And  (you  may  laugh,  but  I'm  in  earnest)  I  shall  live  in  the 
hope  of  'righting'  you  in  the  world's  eyes.  The  day  may 
come.  I  believe  it  will — the  best  day  of  my  life." 

When  the  Mauretania  passed  "Liberty"  I  sent  back  a 
last  message  by  the  statue  to  Eagle.  "Till  the  day!"  I 
said.  But  it  was  a  pang  to  see  the  last  of  her.  I  went 
down  to  my  stateroom  and  cried — oh !  how  I  cried ! 

As  if  to  flaunt  the  glorious  difference  between  this  summer 
and  last,  Father  took  a  furnished  house  in  Norfolk  Street, 
Hyde  Park,  which  was  to  let  with  the  owner's  servants.  It 
was  very  rich  looking,  though  the  elaborate  decorations  re 
minded  me  of  houses  in  moving-picture  plays.  Father  was 
able  to  splurge,  on  Di's  prospects;  and  probably  Kitty  Main 
contributed  to  the  expense,  for  she  and  her  maid  came  to 
stay  with  us.  We  began  to  be  expensively  gay;  and  I  be 
lieve  if  any  duke  or  earl  who  tangoed  with  Diana  had  offered 
himself  for  the  dance  of  life,  she  would  have  thrown  over 
Sidney  Vandyke  at  the  eleventh  hour.  But  no  one  exciting 
showed  signs  of  entangling  himself  permanently,  and  so^ 
when  Major  Vandyke  wired  that  the  situation  in  Mexico 
permitted  him  to  ask  for  leave,  Di's  engagement  was  an 
nounced  in  the  Morning  Post. 

Soon  after  this,  Sidney  arrived  with  cartloads  of  luggage, 
which  seemed  to  detach  him  from  America  forever.  He 
had  got  long  leave  and  intended  to  resign  from  the  army  at 
the  end  of  it.  He  took  up  his  quarters  at  the  Savoy  Hotel, 


178  SECRET  HISTORY 

but  he  was  at  our  house  morning,  noon,  and  night;  and 
though  everybody  who  saw  him  for  the  first  time  said  how 
handsome  he  was,  it  struck  me  from  the  minute  we  met 
that  he  had  changed  for  the  worse.  He  looked  older  and 
stouter,  and  black  and  white  would  no  longer  express  him 
in  a  picture.  A  suffusion  of  red  for  the  face,  as  well  as  for 
the  lips  under  the  black  moustache,  would  have  been 
needed.  I  wondered  if  he  were  drinking;  and  though, 
when  he  lunched  or  dined  with  us  he  was  always  careful 
(except  with  champagne,  which  he  loved  as  a  child  loves 
swe,ets),  he  might  be  less  cautious  when  out  of  Diana's 
sight. 

At  first  I  could  hardly  bear  to  sit  down  at  the  same  table 
with  Sidney  Vandyke;  but  as  time  went  on,  I  found  an  im 
pish  pleasure  in  watching  him,  in  staring  openly,  as  a  baby 
stares.  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  feeling  that  he  was  dis 
turbed  by  my  gaze,  and  that  he  knew,  even  when  not  look 
ing,  that  my  eyes  were  on  him.  Sometimes  in  the  midst  of 
talk  he  would  break  down  and  forget  what  he  had  meant  to 
say  next.  I  affected  him  with  a  kind  of  aphasia,  erasing 
the  words  he  wanted  from  his  brain.  But  otherwise  my 
tactics  were  changed.  I  was  no  longer  rude  to  my  future 
brother-in-law.  I  wished  to  study  him,  and  I  didn't  object 
to  his  knowing  that  I  studied  him. 

A  silent  battle  was  being  fought  between  us  under  a 
smooth  surface  of  civility,  and  Sidney  might  easily  have 
complained  to  Diana  that  my  owl  stare  was  "getting  on 
his  nerves,"  even  though  he  could  have  brought  no  other 
complaint.  If  he  had  spoken  to  her  she  would  have  made 
some  excuse  to  scratch  me  off  her  list  of  bridesmaids.  I 
hoped  she  would,  and  save  me  trouble!  But  perhaps 


SECRET  HISTORY  179 

Sidney  felt  that  I  was  yearning  for  him  to  "squeal,"  and 
resolved  not  to  please  me.  In  any  case,  nobody  not  in 
the  secret  of  our  hearts  could  have  guessed  that  anything 
was  wrong.  And  I  had  to  play  at  spraining  my  ankle  in 
order  to  escape  being  one  of  the  eight. 

It  was  well  to  be  civil  in  word  and  deed,  and  "bide  my 
time,"  but  to  be  in  at  the  death,  and  marry  my  sister  to  a 
man  who'd  stolen  her  from  Eagle  March  and  ruined  him, 
was  a  different  thing.  I  drew  the  line  at  that. 

It's  quite  simple  for  a  girl  vowed  to  the  conscientious 
life  and  no  fibs  to  wrench  her  ankle,  if  she'll  wear  high  heels. 
All  she  has  to  do  when  walking  in  the  steeet  is  to  look  out 
for  banana  peel;  or  an  apple  paring  may  do  at  a  pinch. 
She  launches  herself  upon  it,  with  a  skating  movement. 
Her  foot  turns,  and  the  deed  is  done.  She  can  in  this  way 
produce  a  "strain,"  if  not  a  "sprain";  and  only  doctors 
know  the  difference.  The  difficult  part  comes  in  remem 
bering  to  limp.  I  was  so  fearful  of  forgetting  in  some  mo 
ment  of  excitement,  that  I  took  to  wearing  shoes  which 
were  not  mates.  They  were  actually  incompatible.  One 
had  a  Louis  Quinze  heel  and  the  other  had  none  at  all;  but 
my  dresses  by  this  time  were  so  "grown  up"  and  long  that 
nobody  noticed.  Besides,  though  refusing  to  see  a  doctor, 
I  stopped  in  bed  for  days,  and  hypnotically  impressed  the 
idea  of  a  sprain  on  every  one. 

Those  who  didn't  know  why  I  wouldn't  for  the  world 
be  bridesmaid  to  Diana  sat  by  my  bedside  and  sympa 
thized,  among  others  Mrs.  Dalziel  and  Milly,  who  had  fol 
lowed  us  in  time  to  have  all  the  season's  fun  in  London 
before  the  wedding.  Tony  hoped  to  get  leave  and  arrive 
for  "the  great  day."  Afterward  he  and  his  mother 


180  SECRET  HISTORY 

and  sister  planned  a  motor  tour  through  Belgium,  and 
Luxemburg,  and  France,  before  the  time  when  Tony 
must  rejoin  his  regiment.  I  had  a  sneaking  idea  that  they 
meant  me  to  go,  too;  but  at  that  moment — before  other 
things  had  happened — I  told  myself  that  I  would  do 
nothing  of  the  kind.  I  was  homesick  for  Ireland  and 
Ballyconal. 

The  date  of  Di's  wedding  wasn't  definitely  settled  until 
after  Sidney  came.  Then  it  was  fixed  for  the  ninth  of 
July,  and  the  bride  and  bridegroom  were  to  have  four 
weeks'  motoring  in  the  north  of  England.  When  the 
honeymoon  was  officially  over  they  were  to  make  country- 
house  visits  in  Scotland  for  the  shooting  season.  Sidney 
Vandyke  boasted  of  being  a  crack  shot,  and  Diana  hoped 
to  be  proud  of  her  American  husband  among  British  sports 
men. 

Meanwhile  they  had  some  time  before  the  wedding  in 
which  to  find  a  town  house,  and  choose  furniture  and  things 
so  that  they  might  be  "at  home"  in  the  autumn.  I  think 
Di  really  loved  Sidney  the  day  he  consented  to  buy  a  house 
— a  very  expensive  though  small  house — in  Park  Lane. 
She  had  set  her  heart  upon  Park  Lane;  for,  you  see,  there 
was  always  something  rootedly  Victorian  about  Di;  such 
as  being  convinced  that  Park  Lane  was  the  Mount  Olym 
pus  of  London,  and  that  you  couldn't  be  properly  married 
except  at  St.  George's.  She  was,  and  is,  up-to-date  only 
on  the  surface,  in  such  details  as  clothes  and  hats,  and 
tango,  and  the  latest  slang.  Probably  Di  had  never  been  so 
happy  as  in  gathering  together  materials  for  her  future 
frame;  and  if  Sidney  was  chagrined  because  Father  didn't 
offer  to  lend  for  the  honeymoon  our  ancestral  castle  (to 


SECRET  HISTORY  181 

which  he  and  Di  had  frequently  alluded  in  America)  he 
kept  his  feelings  to  himself.  He  would  have  been  twice 
as  much  chagrined  by  the  castle  could  he  have  seen  it 
before  Kitty  Main  got  in  her  deadly  work.  The  Trow- 
bridges  of  Chicago  would  have  rejoiced  to  tell  him  what 
it  was  really  like. 

I  don't  quite  know  why  it  is  the  fashion  for  brides  to 
shut  themselves  up  and  not  "go  out"  for  days  before 
the  wedding;  but  perhaps  they  are  supposed  to  pass 
their  close  time  in  prayer  and  maiden  meditation,  thank 
ing  heaven  for  what  it  has  provided,  and  dwelling  on  the 
responsibilities  of  the  future.  Di  spent  her  days  in  being 
fitted  for  frocks  (goodness  knew  who  would  pay  for  them, 
unless  Sidney,  on  ceasing  to  be  a  bridegroom  and  turning 
into  a  husband),  receiving  wedding  presents,  having  pho 
tographs  taken,  and  giving  discreet  interviews  to  jour 
nalists.  She  told  the  male  ones  what  a  heroic  person 
Major  Vandyke  was;  and  to  the  female  ones  she  showed 
her  dresses.  There  wasn't  an  illustrated  daily  or  weekly 
paper  in  London  that  didn't  produce  a  picture  of  Sidney 
in  uniform,  looking  dashing,  and  Di  looking  down,  all 
modesty  and  eyelashes. 

The  last  night  she  went  out  to  anything  big  before  the 
wedding  was  to  a  dinner  at  the  Russian  embassy;  and 
though  nothing  which  seemed  to  us  sensationally  inter 
esting  happened  that  night,  something  was  led  up  to  later. 
It  came  through  Milly  Dalziel,  for  whom  Father  and  Di 
had  contrived  to  get  an  invitation.  She  met  Captain 
Count  Stefan  Stefanovitch,  the  military  attache  of  the 
Russian  Embassy. 

There  is  something  irresistible  to  some  natures  about  a 


182  SECRET  HISTORY 

Russian  count;  and  to  Russian  counts  about  American 
heiresses,  particularly  those  with  red  hair.  When  the  two 
had  seen  each  other  three  times  they  were  engaged,  subject 
to  the  consent  of  the  count's  father.  Everybody  in  that 
family  was  a  count  or  countess,  a  delicious  prospect  for 
Milly  when  she  wished  to  talk  of  her  Russian  relatives. 
Stefan  was  to  stay  and  see  Milly  in  her  bridesmaid's 
dress;  then  he  was  going  to  make  a  dash  for  Petrograd 
(we  called  it  St.  Petersburg  then!)  armed  with  her  photo 
graph  and  substantial  accounts  of  her  father's  bank 
balance,  returning  as  soon  as  the  consent  was  in 
sured.  There  seemed  to  be  something  almost  feudally 
old-fashioned  about  Russians,  Milly  thought,  for  a  mere 
wire  to  her  father  had  been  considered  adequate.  But 
then,  Tony  Senior  wasn't  a  count  or  a  "vitch,"  or  any 
thing  exciting  like  that. 

It  was  after  this  dinner  that  I  began  to  prowl  for  banana 
peel.  I  hadn't  wanted  to  be  premature;  still,  it  was  nec 
essary  to  give  some  other  girl  time  to  get  a  bridesmaid's 
dress.  Just  then  the  only  thing  in  London  that  anybody 
cared  about  was  the  Russian  opera  and  ballet,  and  it 
occurred  to  Di  that  it  would  be  original  to  clothe  her  eight 
attendant  maidens  in  Leon  Bakst  designs.  Most  of  the 
girls  were  pale  blondes,  whom  she  had  chosen  because  they 
would  form  an  effective  contrast  to  herself;  but  they  were 
very  brave  about  the  Bakst  effects.  The  measure  of  their 
fingers  had  been  taken,  and  they  were  expecting  presents 
of  rings  beautiful  enough  to  console  them  for  worse  disas 
ters.  Besides,  Sidney  had  brought  over  from  America  a 
Captain  Beatty  to  be  his  best  man.  He  was  rather  rich 
and  very  good-looking. 


SECRET  HISTORY  183 

During  all  this  time  of  our  new  popularity  I  had  heard 
nothing  of  Eagle  March,  except  that  he  had  turned  his 
back  on  his  native  land  after  resigning  from  the  army, 
and  that  various  "ugly  stories"  were  in  circulation.  It 
was  even  said  that  he  had  been  bribed  by  Mexico  with 
immense  sums  of  money  to  betray  his  country.  It  was 
Tony  who  wrote  me  this,  in  answer  to  a  question.  But  he 
knew  no  more  than  this  gossip,  not  even  when  he  arrived 
in  London  the  day  before  Diana's  wedding. 

"For  all  I  can  tell,"  he  said,  when  he  had  congratulated 
me  on  my  limp,  "March  may  have  offered  himself  and  his 
aeroplane  to  the  Viceroy  of  India  or  the  Sultan  of  Turkey 
or  even  the  Emperor  of  Japan.  There's  only  one  thing 
certain  about  him:  he'll  have  to  be  a  soldier  somewhere 
— somehow!" 

"Blessed  is  the  bride  the  sun  shines  on,"  they  say,  but 
the  sun  did  not  shine  on  Diana.  The  ninth  of  July  dawned 
gray  and  blustering,  with  a  queer  rasping  chill  in  the  air 
like  an  autumn  day  slipped  back  in  the  calendar.  I  hated 
the  thought  of  seeing  Di  married  to  Sidney  Vandyke.  It 
seemed  like  aiding  and  abetting  the  enemy,  but  unless 
I  had  another  accident  at  the  last  minute,  such  as  falling 
downstairs,  I  could  see  no  way  of  stopping  at  home  without 
a  row. 

What  would  Eagle  want  me  to  do?  I  asked  myself.  It 
was  almost  as  if  I  could  hear  his  voice  saying,  "Don't 
hurt  Diana  on  such  a  day  by  stopping  away  from  her  wed 
ding." 

I  decided  to  be  there;  and  it  was  arranged  for  me  to  sit 
with  Kitty  Main,  Mrs.  Dalziel,  and  Tony.  I  didn't  mind 
this,  because  Tony  couldn't  very  well  propose  in  church 


184  SECRET  HISTORY 

with  "The  voice  that  breathed  o'er  Eden"  resounding 
to  the  roof. 

The  wedding  was  fixed  for  two  o'clock  at  St.  George's, 
Hanover  Square;  and  if  any  were  left  in  London  who  didn't 
know  the  hour  and  all  other  details,  it  must  have  been  be 
cause  they  didn't  read  the  halfpenny  papers.  It  had  even 
been  announced  that  one  of  the  bridegroom's  many  mag 
nificent  presents  to  the  bride  would  be  a  high-powered 
Grayles-Grice  car,  in  which  Lady  Diana  Vandyke  would 
drive  from  the  church  with  her  husband  to  the  house  of  her 
father,  for  the  wedding  reception,  and  go  on  for  the  honey 
moon  tour  afterward.  This  paragraph  was  truer  than 
some  of  the  others,  but  the  day  before  the  wedding  the 
car  hadn't  yet  been  delivered  by  the  makers.  A  frantic 
telegram  from  Sidney  brought  the  assurance  that  he  might 
count  without  fail  on  its  arriving  by  ten  o'clock  next  day 
at  latest.  The  firm  regretted  deeply  the  unforeseen  delay 
which  had  occurred  owing  to  a  strike,  but  the  automobile 
had  been  shipped.  Still  Sidney  and  Diana  were  anxious. 

Kitty  and  Mrs.  Dalziel  and  Tony  and  I  started  rather 
late,  for  Kitty  had  superintended  the  bride's  dressing. 
The  other  two  came  for  us  in  a  motor  car,  but  Mrs.  Dalziel 
had  to  stop  for  a  look  at  Di.  As  for  me,  I'm  not  sure  how 
I  felt  about  my  sister.  She  was  so  lovely  in  her  lace  and 
silver  brocade  gown,  and  her  cap-veil,  that  my  eyes  clung 
to  her,  yet  it  was  hateful  that  her  beauty  should  be  for  Sid 
ney  Vandyke.  My  thoughts  flew  to  Eagle,  wherever  he 
might  be — at  the  other  end  of  the  world,  perhaps — and  I 
wondered  if  he  knew  what  was  happening  in  London. 

Our  places  at  church  were  at  the  front,  in  one  of  the 
pews  reserved  for  the  bride's  relatives  and  intimate  friends, 


SECRET  HISTORY  185 

so  our  being  late  didn't  matter.  But  already  the  back 
part  of  the  church  was  full,  and  the  air  heavy  with  the 
perfumes  women  wore,  and  the  fragrance  of  roses  and 
lilies  which  made  the  decorations.  As  we  went  in,  a 
sense  of  suffocation  gripped  me.  I  felt  as  if  I  could  easily 
faint,  and  I  realized  that  the  long  strain  on  my  nerves  had 
begun  to  tell.  I  had  a  queer  impression  that  I  was  only  a 
body,  and  that  my  soul  was  far  away  looking  for  some  one 
it  could  not  find.  I  was  glad  when  we  were  settled  in 
our  seats,  but  still  the  odour  of  the  flowers  oppressed  me. 
I  fancied  that  the  brooding  gloom  of  the  day  would  end 
in  a  thunderstorm. 

People  were  whispering  and  rustling  in  their  seats,  won 
dering  if  it  were  not  almost  the  time  for  the  bride  music 
to  begin.  I  had  a  jumpy  sensation  that  somebody  behind 
me  must  be  staring,  and  strongly  willing  me  to  look  round. 
Always  I  have  been  sensitive  to  that  kind  of  influence, 
and  often,  too,  I've  tried  to  make  others  feel  it.  I  kept 
turning  my  head,  but  could  see  no  one  who  seemed  to  be 
taking  an  undue  interest  in  me.  Presently,  however,  I 
caught  Tony's  eyes,  which  fixed  themselves  on  mine  in  an 
owlish  stare. 

"What  makes  you  keep  on  twisting  round  like  that?" 
he  inquired  in  a  stage  whisper.  "Are  you  looking  for  any 
one  in  particular?" 

"No — o,"  I  said,  "but  I  have  a  funny  sort  of  feeling  as 
if  some  one  were  looking  for  me!" 

"By  Jove!"  exclaimed  Tony,  and  repressed  himself  at 

a  glare  from  his  mother.  "I  wonder  if  it's  possible " 

He  stopped,  and  began  carefully  to  smooth  his  silk  hat 
which  was  poised  on  his  knee. 


186  SECRET  HISTORY 

"If  what's  possible?"  I  wanted  to  know,  bending  my 
head  near  to  his,  regardless  of  somebody's  plume  which 
grazed  my  eye. 

"Oh — er,  nothing  much.  Only  just  a  silly  idea  of 
mine." 

"Tell  me,  and  let  me  judge  whether  it's  silly  or  not. 
You're  rousing  my  curiosity."  And  all  the  while  I  tingled 
with  that  almost  irresistible  desire  to  turn  my  head  again. 
It  was  as  if  I  were  missing  something  very  important. 

"I'd  rather  not  now,"  said  Tony.  "I'll  tell  you  after 
ward." 

Before  I  had  time  to  wheedle  the  mystery  out  of  him  (as 
I  felt  confident  I  could)  the  "  Wedding  March  "from  Lohen 
grin  struck  up.  Of  course,  Diana  would  have  that !  It  went 
with  St.  George's  and  the  rest  of  it:  the  "historic"  thing. 

She  came  up  the  aisle,  her  hand  on  Father's  arm. 

"  Oh,  doesn't  he  look  handsome  ?  "  murmured  Kitty  Main. 

"He?"  I  murmured  back. 

"Lord  Ballyconal.  But  dear  Diana  is  wonderful,  of 
course." 

Her  wondrousness  was  largely  a  tribute  to  Kitty,  who 
had  given  the  bride  everything  she  had  on,  everything  that 
was  packed  away  in  her  trunks  at  home,  or  laid  out  ready 
to  go  away  in. 

It  all  passed  off  exactly  like  any  other  wedding  on  a  grand 
scale,  except  that  Tony,  sitting  by  my  side,  drew  a  long 
breath  when  the  bishop  who  was  marrying  Diana  to  Sidney 
Vandyke  finished  the  conventional  pause  following  "or  else 
forever  after  hold  his  peace."  I  flashed  another  glance  at 
Tony  but  he  was  looking  more  like  an  imperturbable  Billi- 
ken  than  he  had  ever  looked. 


SECRET  HISTORY  187 

And  so  Di  was  married,  and  people  whispered  what  a 
beautiful  bride,  and  how  good-looking  the  American  bride 
groom  was,  while  she  and  Sidney  were  in  the  vestry  signing 
their  names  in  the  book.  Then,  down  the  aisle  they  came, 
Di  radiant,  Major  Vandyke  flushed  and  brilliant  eyed. 
"He  looks  as  if  he  had  just  fought  a  successful  engagement," 
I  heard  an  American  man  in  the  pew  behind  say  to  his 
wife.  Well,  that  was  exactly  what  he  had  done.  But 
whether  according  to  the  rules  of  war  or  not  was  another 
question.  We  let  the  crowd  pour  out  of  the  church  before 
us,  and  followed  at  leisure,  I  feeling  more  depressed  than 
I  should  at  a  funeral.  Automobiles  and  carriages  were 
dashing  up  to  the  pavement  to  take  people  away,  and  dash 
ing  off  again  after  an  instant's  pause,  while  throngs  of  the 
uninvited  and  curious  pressed  close  on  either  side  of  the  red 
carpet.  Rain  was  falling,  but  the  lookers-on  appeared  to 
care  little.  The  people  seemed  more  excited  than  usual  at 
a  wedding,  we  thought,  especially  after  the  passing  of  the 
bride;  and  Tony  and  I  looked  at  each  other  questioningly 
with  raised  eyebrows  as  we  caught  a  word  here  and  there. 

"Might  'ave  been  a  tragedy!"  "Pretty  close  call,  that 
was."  "If  it  hadn't  been  for  that  feller  they'd  both  have 
been  dead  corpses  now!"  remarked  the  uninvited. 

"What  can  have  happened?  "  we  asked  each  other,  and  I 
made  Tony  speak  to  the  policeman  who  had  shut  us  into 
our  car. 

"Bride's  carriage,  sir;  but  it  was  soon  all  right  in  the 
end,"  was  the  only  answer  we  got,  as  the  signal  was  given 
for  our  motor  to  move  off  and  the  next  to  come  up. 

"  The  bride's  carriage ! "  Then  the  new  automobile  hadn't 
come,  and  there  had  been  an  accident  at  the  church  door. 


CHAPTER    XV 

WE  DASHED  home  to  get  news  of  Diana,  and  it 
was  a  relief  to  find  everything  decorous  and  ap 
parently  serene  at  the  house.  We  were  informed 
by  a  band  of  footmen,  hired  with  powder  and  pomatum  in 
clusive,  for  the  occasion,  that  the  bride  had  arrived  safely. 
There  was  no  stare  of  consternation  or  half -hidden  horror  on 
any  face.  But  in  the  flower-decked  drawing-room,  with  its 
effective  marble  pillars  (Di  and  Father  had  taken  the  house 
on  the  strength  of  that  drawing-room,  so  well  designed  for  a 
wedding  reception),  the  bride  and  bridegroom  had  not  yet 
stationed  themselves  to  smile  and  be  congratulated,  al 
though  guests  had  begun  to  arrive.  Father,  however,  was 
there,  at  his  best  and  reassuring  everybody.  Diana  had 
been  a  "little  upset  by  the  fright,  don't  you  know,  and  Van 
dyke  was  looking  after  her";  but  it  was  nothing — nothing 
at  all.  She  would  be  down  presently. 

"What  is  it,  Father?  What  did  happen?"  I  found  a 
chance  to  whisper;  but  to  my  surprise  he  gave  me  for 
answer  only  a  frown  which  seemed  inexplicably  to  say, 
"Whatever  it  is,  you'd  better  not  ask!  Don't  pretend 
innocence,  it  doesn't  suit  you." 

"Do  find  out  something  from  somebody,"  I  said  hastily 
to  Tony,  and  ran  upstairs  in  search  of  Kitty  Main,  who, 
having  deserted  us  to  return  home  with  Father,  was  never 
theless  not  to  be  found  in  the  drawing-room.  She  was  sure 

188 


SECRET  HISTORY  189 

to  know  everything,  I  thought,  and  delighted  to  talk.  But 
the  first  person  I  met  was  Sidney  Vandyke  in  the  act  of 
closing  Diana's  door  and  coming  out  into  the  hall.  Seeing 
me,  a  set  and  gloomy  expression,  most  unsuitable  to  a 
bridegroom,  changed  to  a  look  of  actual  fury.  If  I  had 
been  a  small  tame  dog  which  had  unexpectedly  sprung  up 
to  bite  him,  he  could  not  have  glared  more  venomously. 

Since  he  had  come  to  London  we  had  met  almost  every 
day,  and  when  necessary  I  had  been  as  dully  polite  as  a  book 
on  etiquette.  But  only  when  necessary.  At  other  times  I 
had  effaced  myself;  now,  though  I  was  keen  for  news  of  Di, 
I  didn't  care  to  get  it  from  him,  especially  after  that  look. 
Never  since  the  episode  of  the  photograph  in  camp  at  El 
Paso  had  I  of  my  own  free  will  begun  a  conversation  with 
Major  Vandyke,  and  it  was  now  my  intention  to  wait  until 
he  was  out  of  the  way  before  going  to  Kitty  or  Diana. 
But  when  I  would  quietly  have  slid  past  the  bridegroom  in 
the  corridor,  he  stopped  me. 

"You've  always  been  the  enemy,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of 
repressed  rage,  subdued  to  reach  my  ears  only,  "but  I 
did  think  you  fought  fair.  I  didn't  expect  you  to  hit  me 
in  the  back — and  strike  your  sister,  too,  on  her  wedding 
day.  You're  a  cruel  and  cowardly  little  enemy,  after  all. 
And  let  me  tell  you  this:  neither  of  us  will  forgive  you  as 
long  as  we  live." 

I  stared  at  him  in  amazement.  "I  don't  know  what 
you  mean!" 

"I  shouldn't  lie  on  top  of  the  rest,  if  I  were  you,"  he 
sneered.  "I  forbid  you  to  go  to  Di.  She's  borne  enough. 
A  little  more,  and  she'd  not  be  able  to  face  those  people 
downstairs." 


190  SECRET  HISTORY 

"  I  tell  you  again,  and  I  don't  lie,  because  Eagle  March 
himself  taught  me  to  speak  the  truth,"  I  said,  "that  I've 
no  idea  what  you're  driving  at.  I  have  done  nothing,  except 
live.  I  don't  know  what's  happened.  I  want  to  know." 

"You  shan't  have  the  satisfaction  of  hearing  anything 
from  me! "  Sidney  flung  the  words  at  my  head.  Then  he 
turned  on  his  heel,  and  opened  Diana's  door  again  without 
knocking.  I  think  he  would  have  shut  it  in  my  face;  but 
Kitty  Main  was  ready  to  come  out,  and  must  have  had  her 
hand  on  the  knob  when  it  was  snatched  from  her  fingers. 

"Oh,  Major!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  was  hurrying  to  call 
you  back.  Di  thinks  she's  strong  enough  to  go  down 
now." 

The  door  remained  open,  and  I  saw  Di  sitting  on  a  sofa 
just  opposite,  with  an  empty  champagne  glass  in  her  hand. 
Her  white  face  and  white  figure  in  her  wedding  dress  stood 
out  like  a  wonderfully  painted  portrait  against  the  fashion 
able  black  chintz  wall-covering  of  the  bedroom.  Seeing 
her  husband,  she  stood  up  and  came  forward,  setting 
the  wineglass  on  the  table  as  she  passed.  "I'm  all  right 
now,"  she  said,  and  then  caught  sight  of  me. 

"  Oh,  cruel ! "  she  reproached  me.  "  Was  it  he  who  asked 
you  not  to  tell,  or  was  it  your  own  thought?" 

"He?"  I  echoed.  "You  all  talk  in  riddles.  You  ac 
cuse  me  of  something,  and  won't  explain  what  it  is." 

"You  must  know!"  Di  exclaimed.  "But  I  can't  talk 
about  it  now,  or  I  shall  break  down  again.  Thanks  for 
the  champagne,  Sid.  You  were  right;  it  did  me  good. 
Now  we'll  go." 

She  brushed  past  me  in  the  corridor,  her  head  turned 
away;  and  as  I  stared  stupidly  after  her  and  Major  Van- 


SECRET  HISTORY  191 

dyke,  suddenly  my  eyes  fell  on  a  small  but  conspicuous 
spot  of  red  that  marred  the  lustre  of  Di's  silver  train. 
It  looked  like  a  drop  of  blood. 

When  the  two  had  gone,  I  pounced  upon  Mrs.  Main. 
"For  pity's  sake,  explain  the  mystery!" 

"Oh,  it  was  dreadful  for  a  few  minutes,"  she  said. 
"There  was  nearly  the  most  awful  accident.  Of  course 
you  came  out  too  late  to  see.  But — you  do  know  who  was 
in  the  church? — at  least,  I  suppose  he  must  have  been 
there." 

I  started  as  if  she  had  boxed  my  ears,  for  without  telling, 
I  knew  all  she  meant.  I  remembered  the  odd  feeling  I  had 
had  of  some  one  trying  to  call  me,  as  if  in  a  dream;  and 
how  I  had  looked  behind  me  in  vain.  Tony,  too,  had 
been  very  strange.  He  had  begun  to  say  something  and 
had  stopped  in  haste.  He  had  promised  to  explain  later, 
but  coming  home  I  had  forgotten  to  ask  him.  There  had 
been  the  excitement  about  the  supposed  accident  to  Diana, 
and  my  thoughts  had  clung  to  that. 

Now  I  realized  that  there  was  only  one  person  who 
might  have  been  at  St.  George's  with  my  secret  connivance, 
whose  presence  there  Sidney  Vandyke  would  furiously 
resent:  Eagle  March. 

Kitty  was  looking  at  me  curiously,  almost  appealingly, 
and  I  was  vexed  with  myself  for  blushing.  "I  do  not 
know,"  I  answered  steadily.  "I  might  guess — but  almost 
surely  I  should  guess  wrong.  Tell  me  who,  in  all  that 
crowd,  it  was  worth  Sidney's  while  to  make  this  fuss 
about." 

"Well,"  said  Kitty,  who  being  far  from  brave  is  easily 
abashed,  "I'm  not  sure  he  was  inside  the  church,  but  any- 


192  SECRET  HISTORY 

how  he  was  outside,  because  I  saw  him  the  instant  before 

he  seized  the  horses'  heads.     And  then " 

"Seized  the  horses'  heads?  But  who— who? " 
"Captain  March.  Of  course  it  was  he  who  saved  Diana 
and  Major  Vandyke.  At  least  I  think  he  deserves  so 
much  credit,  and  Di  would  think  it,  too,  if  she  were  left 
to  herself.  But  Major  Vandyke  says  the  whole  thing  was 
arranged;  that  it  was  Captain  March  who  planned — to — 

"He's  sure  to  say  something  horrible.  But  begin  at 
the  beginning!" 

"I  can't  now,  dear,"  said  Kitty  nervously.  "Di  and 
Sidney  will  be  so  cross  if  I  stay  up  here  talking  to  you. 
I  really  must  go  down;  but  you're  sure  to  hear  everything." 

I  didn't  insist,  for  I  could  not  keep  her  against  her  will; 
and  besides,  it  would  be  better  to  have  the  story  from 
some  one  who  could  tell  things  more  clearly.  Down  I  flew 
to  find  Tony,  whom  I  could  trust  to  have  commandeered 
some  news  for  me  by  this  time.  Already  the  drawing-room 
was  crammed  with  perfumed  people  and  too  fragrant 
flowers,  and  a  babel  of  chatter.  I  should  have  had  to 
knock  fat  old  ladies  and  thin  old  gentlemen  about  like 
ninepins  to  sort  out  from  among  bonneted  and  bald  pates 
the  inconspicuous  brown  head  I  sought,  and  my  search 
was  checked  constantly  by  well-meaning  creatures  who 
pined  to  tell  me  how  pretty  the  wedding  had  been,  or 
how  much  I  had  grown  since  they  saw  me  last.  Now  and 
then,  however,  I  picked  up  a  wisp  of  information. 

"What  a  close  shave  there  was  of  a  tragedy!  But  all's 
well  that  ends  well,"  said  Lady  O'Harrel,  a  distant  cousin 
of  ours  who  had  ignored  the  connection  until  it  advertised 


SECRET  HISTORY  193 

itself  in  Norfolk  Street  and  Park  Lane.  "Who  was  the 
man  who  seized  the  horses'  heads  when  they  bolted?  I 
didn't  see  him  myself,  but  I  heard  some  one  say  he  looked 
like  a  gentleman." 

I  answered  as  if  I  had  the  whole  affair  at  my  fingers' 
ends:  "It  was  Captain  March  of  the  American  army,  the 
flying  man  who  used  to  be  so  popular  here  last  summer." 

"Dear  me!"  breathed  Lady  O'Harrel,  who  had  two  sons 
of  her  own  in  the  British  army.  "Fancy!  Why,  I  heard 
Gerald  speaking  of  him  only  the  other  day.  He  heard  that 
Captain  March  had  been  cashiered  for  something  or  other 
so  dreadful  it  couldn't  be  spoken  of.  The  story's  going  the 
rounds  of  London  now.  I'm  not  sure  Gerald  didn't  get 
it  from  your  brother-in-law  the  night  he  asked  Major  Van 
dyke  to  dine  at  the  Rag.  How  strange  Captain  March 
should  have  been  the  one  to  save  them ! " 

"He  was  not  cashiered,"  I  passionately  protested.  "He 

did  nothing  dreadful.  It  was "  I  stopped  myself  on 

the  verge  of  saying  that  it  was  Sidney  Vandyke  himself 
who  deserved  to  bear  the  shame  he  would  thrust  on  an 
other.  But  there  are  some  things  you  cannot  do !  One  of 
these  is  to  inform  a  guest  at  your  sister's  wedding  that  the 
bridegroom  is  a  villain.  I  had  to  choke  back  my  rage 
against  Sidney  at  its  hottest,  like  Vesuvius  swallowing  its 
own  lava,  and  resolve  to  fight  the  battle  of  Eagle  March 
only  on  the  lines  of  noblesse  oblige — the  lines  on  which  he 
would  choose  to  fight,  no  matter  what  the  provocative. 

At  last  I  unearthed  Tony,  talking  to  the  prettiest  brides 
maid.  But  because  she  was  the  prettiest,  and  other  men 
were  glad  to  snap  her  up,  I  disentangled  Tony  with  ease. 
"  I've  been  dying  for  you ! "  I  said. 


194  SECRET  HISTORY 

"I  don't  flatter  myself  too  much  on  that,"  he  replied. 
"It's  my  story  you  want.  Well,  I've  been  busy  putting 
things  together,  and  I  guess  it's  only  the  two  ends  of  the 
jig-saw  that  are  missing  now.  I  warn  you,  Peggy,  I  don't 
know  how  Eagle  March  got  into  church,  or  where  from,  or 
what  became  of  him  at  the  end." 

"Perhaps  I  shall  hear  from  him,"  I  said;  yet  I  spoke 
mechanically  and  with  little  hope.  I  felt  that  the  time 
Eagle  had  fixed  for  our  meeting  was  not  yet. 

"Perhaps  you  will,"  echoed  Tony.  "He  may  want  to 
explain,  when  he  knows  you  know  he  was  there,  why  he 
turned  up  at  Lady  Di's  wedding:  that  it  wasn't  just  vulgar 
curiosity,  or  the  wish  to  give  her  a  start  that  made  him  do 
it." 

"He  wouldn't  need  to  explain  to  you,  or  me,  or  any  one 
who  knew  him,"  I  answered.  "That  goes  without  saying. 
Whatever  his  reason  was,  it  was  good.  But  are  you  sure 
he  was  in  the  church?" 

"Well,  you  remember  when  I  asked  why  you  kept  turn 
ing  your  head,  and  you  told  me  it  was  because  you  felt 
some  one  *  looking  for  you?" 

"Yes!  And  you  said  'By  Jove!  I  wonder  if  it's  pos 
sible '  Then  you  shut  up  like  an  oyster." 

"I  thought  it  wouldn't  do  to  go  further,  then,  and  excite 
you  for  nothing,  maybe.  I  did  promise  to  tell  you  after 
ward,  but  coming  here  we  had  the  accident  to  talk  about, 
and  you  forgot " 

"Never  mind  excuses.  Tell  me  now.  Had  you  seen 
him?" 

"I  wasn't  quite  sure — thought  I  might  have  made  a  mis 
take.  Away  back  near  the  door  as  we  came  in  I  caught 


SECRET  HISTORY  195 

sight  of  a  chap  who  reminded  me  of  March.  But  I  never 
saw  him  before  in  London  togs,  you  know,  and  it  was  dark 
in  the  church,  with  all  that  rain  coming  down  outside.  I 
couldn't  tell  for  certain,  it  seemed  so  dashed  improbable 
that  he  should  be  there.  Even  if  he  was  in  London,  he 
wouldn't  have  been  likely  to  get  a  card " 

"A  card,  indeed !  Do  you  think  any  one  with  eyes  in  his 
head  would  ask  Eagle  March  to  show  a  card  ?" 

"Well,  anyhow,"  Tony  defended  himself,  "why  should 
he  want  to  poke  his  nose  in  there?  I  judged  him  by  the 
way  I  should  feel,  supposing  it  was  you  being  spliced  to 
some  other  fellow.  I'd  sooner  be  at  the  North  or  South 
Pole  than  have  to  watch  it  done,  unless  I  could  bounce 
out  with  an  impediment  why  you  shouldn't  lawfully  be 
joined  together." 

"I  can  think  of  reasons  why  a  man  might — might  steel 
himself  to  see  a  woman  he'd  loved  married  to  another  man," 
I  said;  though  in  truth,  I  couldn't  see  distinctly,  and  I 
wondered  if  the  day  would  come  when  the  mystery  of 
Eagle's  presence  at  Diana's  wedding  would  clear  itself  up. 
There  was  just  one  thing  I  could  count  on,  though!  It 
would  never  be  from  my  trying  to  find  out,  but  only  when, 
and  if,  Eagle  wished  me  to  know.  Meanwhile,  I  trusted 
him  as  always,  and  hardly  needed  to  be  told  that  the  man 
in  the  back  seat  at  St.  George's  hadn't  flaunted  himself  in  a 
conspicuous  position. 

"He  was  wedged  in  between  two  women's  hats,"  Tony 
went  on.  "I'd  never  have  spotted  him,  if  I  hadn't  been 
rubber-necking  at  the  crowd,  sort  of  counting  scalps. 
That's  not  done  by  brides  and  grooms  in  our  class  of  life,  so 
March  might  have  felt  as  safe  as  a  hermit  crab,  as  far  as 


196  SECRET  HISTORY 

giving  the  willies  to  Lady  Di  or  Vandyke  was  concerned. 
But  just  when  I  was  rubbering,  he  happened  to  shove  his 
head  forward  between  hats  to  squint  at  you." 

"  Oh,  Tony ! "  I  couldn't  help  breaking  in.  "  He  was  look 
ing  at  me?" 

"That's  the  way  it  struck  me.  But  the  ladies  with  the 
hats  were  after  the  same  thing,  so  they  closed  their  ranks  in 
front  of  March's  nose,  and  swamped  him.  That's  why  I 
didn't  get  the  chance  to  make  sure  whether  it  was  he  or  his 
double.  I  rubbered  some  more,  to  see,  but  there  was 
only  a  massed  formation  of  hats  where  the  face  had 
been.  There's  nothing  like  hatpins  to  drive  a  man  to  the 
wall." 

I  shivered  a  little  with  the  same  electric  thrill  which  had 
passed  through  me  in  church.  What  a  soulless  thing  I  had 
been  not  to  know,  despite  a  barrier  of  a  hundred  hats,  by 
instinct  whose  eyes  had  called  mine.  But  Tony  was  going 
mildly  on. 

"That's  all,  about  the  church,"  he  said.  "March  must 
have  been  one  of  the  first  to  get  out,  or  he  wouldn't  have 
been  on  the  stage  in  time  for  the  next  act.  Sounds  like  a 
kind  of  melodrama  now,  doesn't  it?  Act  one,  scene  one,  in 
side  St.  George's,  Hanover  Square;  the  wedding.  Scene 
two,  outside  the  church  door.  Only,  in  a  melodrama,  the 
bridegroom  would  be  the  hero,  and  the  other  fellow  the 
villain.  There's  no  villain  in  this  play." 

"Oh,  isn't  there?"  I  sneered.  "We  won't  argue  the 
question,  though.  I  suppose  the  new  motor  car  didn't 
come  after  all,  as  I  hear  things  about  runaway  horses." 

" Then  you  have  heard  already?  What's  the  good  of  my 
repeating " 


SECRET  HISTORY  197 

"No— no!  I've  heard  scarcely  anything.  I  depended 
on  you.  I  was  sure  you  wouldn't  fail  me." 

That  encouraged  Tony,  and  soon  I  knew  what  he  knew. 
He  had  been  pumping  Captain  Beatty,  and  had  learned 
from  him  how,  before  leaving  the  Savoy  for  St.  George's, 
Sidney  had  received  a  wire  from  his  chauffeur.  It  said  that 
the  Grayles-Grice  had  safely  arrived  by  a  later  train  than 
promised,  but  that  something  was  wrong  with  the  motor. 
Better  not  depend  on  the  car  for  church,  though  it  would  be 
pretty  sure  to  be  all  right  to  go  away  in  after  the  reception. 
This  was  a  blow  to  Sidney,  because  he  had  grown  quite 
superstitious  on  the  subject  of  reaching  the  house  from  St. 
George's.  He  had  told  Captain  Beatty  about  repeated 
dreams  of  a  bomb  startling  a  pair  of  horses.  And  a  Bond 
Street  clairvoyant  had  seen  in  her  crystal  a  picture  of  him 
and  a  woman  in  white  driving  away  from  a  church  in  a 
black-draped  hearse.  Captain  Beatty  had  mentioned 
casually  to  Tony  that  Vandyke  used  to  have  as  good  nerves 
as  the  next  man,  but  that  he'd  got  "jumpy"  lately,  and 
Beatty  wondered  whether  it  was  like  that  with  all  fellows 
who  were  going  to  be  married. 

The  only  thing  to  do  had  been  to  order  a  motor  or  car 
riage  to  come  to  St.  George's  for  the  bride  and  bridegroom. 
Di,  appealed  to  by  telephone,  preferred  a  carriage.  A 
smart-looking  one  had  been  sent  accordingly,  but  the 
horses  were  fresh  and  had  begun  to  dance  impatiently  even 
before  Diana  and  Sidney  came  out  of  the  church.  The 
thin  little  coachman  had  difficulty  in  holding  them  in 
when  it  thundered.  By  the  time  Di  and  her  husband 
appeared,  the  pair  were  prancing  on  their  hind  legs,  and 
the  crowd  on  the  pavement  waiting  for  the  bridal  couple 


198  SECRET  HISTORY 

were  pushing  nervously  back,  out  of  the  way  of  threaten 
ing  hoofs.  Di  had  hesitated  for  an  instant,  but  the  coach 
man  had  assured  Major  Vandyke  that  the  horses  were 
only  "playing  a  bit,"  and  were  as  gentle  as  lambs.  They'd 
come  down  to  business  the  minute  they  were  allowed  to 
start.  So  Sidney  had  put  Diana  into  the  carriage  and 
was  in  the  act  of  getting  in  himself,  when  a  man  on  a  motor 
cycle  suddenly  tore  round  the  corner  into  Hanover  Square 
with  the  noise  of  ten  thousand  demons.  That  was  the 
"limit"  for  the  horses,  said  Tony.  They  bolted,  with 
Di  shrieking  and  trying  to  pull  her  husband  into  the 
brougham,  Sidney  clinging  ignominiously  to  the  door,  and 
to  a  strap  inside. 

The  policeman  and  another  man  or  two  ran  forward, 
but  the  screaming  of  Diana  and  dozens  of  women  on  the 
pavement  frightened  the  creatures  more  and  more.  The 
coachman  lost  control;  the  policeman  was  kicked,  and 
stumbled  back;  the  others  couldn't  get  to  the  horses,  which 
were  bolting  across  the  street;  and  in  another  minute  the 
bridegroom  would  certainly  have  been  flung  down,  if  a 
man  just  out  of  church  hadn't  made  a  dash  to  the  rescue. 
The  next  thing  any  one  knew,  he  was  hanging  on  to  the 
animals'  heads  like  grim  death,  and  bringing  them  down 
from  their  hind  feet  on  to  all  fours  again.  He  was  dragged 
a  few  yards  before  a  couple  of  policemen  could  get  to  his 
side;  but  meanwhile,  as  he  clung  to  the  horses,  like  a  brake 
on  their  speed,  the  brougham  steadied  itself.  Sidney  con 
trived  to  crawl  inside  and  bang  the  door  shut,  for  his 
own  protection  and  Di's.  It  all  happened  in  a  minute; 
and  as  the  hatless  man  held  on  to  the  horses'  heads,  Cap 
tain  Beatty  in  great  astonishment  recognized  him  as  Cap- 


SECRET  HISTORY  199 

tain  March.  It  was  Eagle  who  stopped  the  horses;  but  as 
the  two  policemen  sprang  to  his  aid,  and  staggering  back  he 
let  go  his  hold,  he  must  have  been  kicked  by  one  of  the 
beasts.  What  Captain  Beatty  did  see  was  Eagle's  forehead 
streaming  with  blood,  and  when  the  rescuer  had  hurried 
away,  insisting  that  the  wound  was  of  no  importance, 
the  bride  was  helped  out  of  the  carriage  by  the  bridegroom 
and  into  a  closed  motor  car  which  some  one  hastily  offered. 
In  the  street  where  it  had  all  happened  was  a  stain  of 
blood,  Captain  March's  no  doubt;  but  in  the  excitement 
of  changing  the  bride  from  one  vehicle  to  the  other  he 
had  time  to  vanish  as  completely  as  if  he'd  wrapped  him 
self  in  an  invisible  cloak. 

"Just  as  well,  too,  considering  who  he  was,  and  who  he's 
saved,"  Tony  finished  ungrammatically.  "It  would  have 
been  mighty  awkward  for  all  parties  if  he'd  fallen  down 
in  a  faint,  and  Lord  Ballyconal  out  of  gratitude  had  had 
to  put  him  up  here,  where  the  wedding  party's  going  on. 
Or  even  if  he'd  been  all  right,  but  coralled  by  the  crowd, 
the  bride  would  have  been  called  upon  to  address  him  as 
'my  preserver' — what?  Can't  you  see  Vandyke  obliged 
to  shower  blessings  on  March  for  saving  both  their  lives?" 

"And  yet,  how  awful  that  he  should  go  without  a  word 
of  thanks — go  wounded  and  bleeding!"  The  thought 
made  me  choke. 

"I  guess  March  is  a  bit  like  a  sick  cat  that  way,"  said 
Tony  dryly.  "He'd  rather  crawl  off  and  get  well  alone 
than  be  bothered  by  sympathy,  even  yours,  my  child. 
That's  like  him.  And  like  him  to  save  the  very  man  who's 
spoilt  his  life.  But  blest  if  I  can  see  that  being  there  in 
church  was  like  him,  no  matter  what  you  say!  Anyhow, 


200  SECRET  HISTORY 

it  was  a  blamed  good  thing  for  every  one  concerned  that 
he  just  dropped  from  heaven  like  manna  in  the  nick  of 
time,  and  then  was  absorbed  back  into  clouds  again,  blood 
and  all." 

"Diana's  dress  must  have  been  baptized  in  that  blood," 
I  muttered,  for  my  own  benefit,  but  Tony  caught  me  up. 
"Gee  whiz!  did  she  get  her  gown  spattered  with  it?" 

"A  drop  or  two  on  her  silver  train.  Poetic  justice! 
The  blood  had  been  spilt  for  her." 

"Dashed  bad  luck  to  get  it  on  her  wedding  dress,  though, 
I've  heard  superstitious  folks  say — but  what  rotten  non 
sense  to  talk  like  this  to  you!  Of  course,  there's  nothing 
in  it." 

"I'm  not  sure  how  Di  would  feel  if  she  knew.  But  I 
feel  as  if  a  drop  of  Eagle  March's  blood  would  be  like  the 
blood  of  the  prince  in  a  fairy  story  I  used  to  love.  Just 
the  faintest  smear  of  it  brought  fortune  for  the  heroine 
and  all  her  family,"  I  said.  "Di  doesn't  know.  I  didn't 
tell  what  I  saw.  And  would  you  believe  this,  Tony?  My 
noble  brother-in-law  pretends  to  believe  that  Eagle  got 
up  the  whole  scene,  like  a  plot  in  that  melodrama  you  were 
talking  about.  I  suppose  he'd  like  Di  to  think  that  Eagle 
bribed  the  livery  people  to  send  nervous  horses  and  a  weak 
coachman,  and  that  he  hired  a  motor  cyclist  to  swing  round 
the  corner  on  a  cue  at  the  right  instant,  in  order  that  he 
himself  might  play  the  gallant  hero.  Rather  elaborate! 
But  that  shows  how  a  man  judges  another  by  what  he 
would  do  in  his  place !  Isn't  it  a  proof  that  the  El  Paso 
affair  was  a  plot — a  plot  Sidney  accuses  Eagle  of  revenging 
in  this  wild  way?" 

"That's  quite  a  neat  suggestion,"  said  Tony,  smiling  an 


SECRET  HISTORY  201 

"indulge-the-poor-child"  smile  which  made  me  want  to 
box  his  ears — though  not  hard.  "I  don't  think  you  need 
be  afraid,  though,"  he  hurried  on,  to  calm  me.  "Vandyke 
won't  openly  accuse  March  of  anything  more,  I  guess,  unless 
in  the  bosom  of  his  family  where  it  won't  do  much  harm. 
If  he  dealt  out  any  'plot'  talk  of  that  sort,  he'd  make  him 
self  a  laughing-stock,  and  he  wouldn't  stand  for  that. 
He'll  just  try  to  forget  the  whole  business,  and  help  other 
folks  to  forget — cut  it  out." 

"It  will  be  better  for  him!"  I  said,  as  fiercely  as  a  small 
dog  growling  in  the  kennel  of  a  big  one.  "But  Di  and 
Sidney,  too,  both  accuse  me  of  being  in  the '  plot.'  They  say 
I  knew  Eagle  was  in  England,  and  secretly  invited  him  to 
the  wedding.  I  haven't  even  heard  from  him  since  we 
came  back  from  America." 

"Haven't  you?  "  Tony's  face  brightened.  "Well,  I  shall 
never  cease  wondering  what  brought  March  to  the  church, 
till  I  know — which  may  be  never.  Unless  you  tell  me 
when  you  hear." 

"7/1  hear!" 

"  I  guess  you're  sure  to  sooner  or  later.  He  must  know 
now  that  he  was  recognized.  No  use  hiding  his  head  in  the 
sand !  He'll  want  to  explain  why  he — er — well,  sort  of  in 
truded." 

"No,  he  wouldn't  need  to  explain,"  I  reiterated. 
"What's  the  use  of  friendship,  if  it  doesn't  understand  and 
take  things  for  granted?  And — if  Eagle  never  writes,  I 
shall  know  he  doesn't  want  me  to  seek  him.  So  I  won't  do 
that,  even  though  he  has  been  hurt  for  us,  and  maybe  is 
suffering." 

"You're  a  soldier,"  Tony  complimented  me.     "March 


202  SECRET  HISTORY 

would  be  just  the  man  to  appreciate  that  if  he  could  hear 
you  now." 

"I  believe  he  would  understand  me  as  I  understand 
him,"  I  said.  "Still  it  is  hard  not  to  know  if  he's  badly 
hurt." 

"By  the  way  he  shot  through  the  crowd  like  a  streak  of 
greased  lightning,  I  should  say  it  wasn't  fatal,"  Tony 
cheered  me.  "  But  if  you'd  like  to  have  me  do  a  bit  of  secret 
service  work  and  'phone  to  a  few  hotels  or  hospitals " 

I  shook  my  head  decidedly.  "  I  know  the  hotel  where  he 
goes,"  I  said.  "I  shan't  send.  I  think  if  he  were  very 
badly  wounded,  he  would  let  me  know.  He'd  trust  me  to 
stand  between  him  and — the  others.  Now — let's  go  and 
see  Di  cut  her  wedding  cake.  You  can  have  a  piece  to 
dream  on  if  you  like." 

"No  good!"  said  Tony.  "I  always  dream  of  you  any 
how,  when  I  dream  at  all — except  when  I  eat  welsh  rabbit: 
then  I  dream  of  the  devil."  But  he  went  with  me  like  a 
lamb,  and  we  spoke  no  more  of  Captain  March. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

I  THINK  if  Sidney  Vandyke  had  never  taken  the 
trouble  actually  to  hate  me,  he  exerted  himself  to  that 
extent  on  his  wedding  day. 

I  kept  my  distance  when  the  others  gave  the  bride  and 
bridegroom  a  send-off  of  waving  hands  and  showering  rice 
as  they  skimmed  away  in  the  Grayles-Grice  car  (ready  at 
last) ;  but  I'd  caught  a  wandering  glance  or  two  meanwhile 
from  my  new  brother-in-law,  and  thanked  my  stars  that 
Heaven  hadn't  made  me  some  poor  private  soldier  under 
his  command.  Di  turned  her  cheek  with  the  look  of  a 
martyred  saint  when  I  was  supposed  to  kiss  her  good-bye; 
and  altogether  I  fancied  that  I  should  not  be  urged  to  visit  in 
Park  Lane  when  the  happy  pair  came  back  in  the  autumn. 
I  intended  to  be  at  Bally conal  then;  but  a  thousand  things 
were  fated  to  change  my  scheme  and  the  schemes  of  all  the 
other  unsuspecting  mice  in  England  and  Europe. 

The  first  thing — oh,  such  a  small  thing  compared  to  those 
that  were  to  follow — which  happened  after  Di's  marriage 
was  an  announcement  from  Father.  He  had  proposed  to 
Mrs.  Main,  and  she  had  been  "good  enough  to  accept 
him."  That  was  his  formal  way  of  breaking  the  news  to 
me,  for  we  had  been  on  official  terms  only  for  some  days 
following  the  wedding;  though  to  his  darling  Di  he  would 
probably  have  put  it  "Look  here,  girl,  she's  jumped  at  me! 
Hurrah!  The  luck  of  Bally conal's  come  right  side  up 


204  SECRET  HISTORY 

again!"  And  Di  would  have  congratulated  dear  old 
Bally,  reminding  him  that  third  times  were  always  success 
ful. 

Of  course,  whenever  I  stopped  to  think  of  it,  I  had  told 
myself  that  this  announcement  was  bound  to  come,  and  to 
come  soon.  But  my  head  had  been  full  as  a  hive  of  bees 
with  other  thoughts;  and  besides,  I  hadn't  realized  how  I 
should  feel  the  blow  when  it  fell. 

Vaguely,  I'd  taken  it  for  granted  that  life  would  go  on 
for  me  as  before.  I  liked  Kitty,  and  she  didn't  dislike  me, 
though,  of  course,  Di  had  been  brilliantly  her  favourite.  I 
had  told  myself  that  Kitty  and  Father  would  trot  off  some 
where  and  leave  me  free  at  Ballyconal  to  hibernate  in  some 
neglected  corner,  while  the  place  was  glorified  into  a  stately 
British  home  for  an  American  millionairess.  Then  (I  had 
gone  on  dimly  planning)  they  would  return  in  state,  and 
Kitty  would  be  duly  honoured  by  a  picturesque  welcome 
from  the  hastily  cleaned  up  tenants.  After  that,  nobody 
would  take  much  notice  of  little  Peggy.  I  should  be  tacitly 
permitted  to  play  among  my  books,  and  the  peasants  I 
loved  the  best,  for  whose  sake  I  had  been  trying  to  learn 
the  art  of  nursing. 

Father's  way  of  telling  his  news,  however,  showed  me  the 
truth  about  myself.  I  didn't  feel  in  the  least  related  to 
him;  and  I  decided  to  use  the  month  before  their  return 
from  the  wedding  journey  in  finding  some  other  way  of 
spending  my  life.  I  couldn't  make  a  "crowd"  in  that 
"company"  of  two! 

I  was  nice  to  Father  and  charming  to  Kitty,  and  all  the 
time  I  was  polishing  my  brain  as  if  it  were  the  genie's  lamp, 
and  summoning  the  genie  to  bring  me  inspiration.  I 


SECRET  HISTORY  205 

couldn't  be  a  governess  on  the  strength  of  languages  alone. 
Not  knowing  the  multiplication  table,  having  to  do  hasty 
sums  on  my  fingers,  and  being  ignorant  of  principal  rivers, 
boundaries,  and  all  dates  except  that  of  Waterloo,  was  too 
big  a  handicap;  and  in  sheer  poverty  of  invention  I  seemed 
to  be  driven  back  to  Billiken,  that  god  of  "things  as  they 
ought  to  be."  Perhaps  it  was  fate  that  I  had  been  invited 
by  Mrs.  Dalziel  to  a  "boy  and  girl"  theatre  party  the  very 
night  when  I  had  to  congratulate  Father,  and  wish  wishes 
for  Kitty  which  short  of  a  miracle  couldn't  come  true. 

It  was  only  two  days  after  Di's  wedding,  but  already  that 
event  seemed  long  ago.  No  news  had  come  from  Eagle, 
and  he  was  referred  to  in  London  newspapers  as  "the 
modest  stranger"  who  had  disappeared  after  saving  the 
lives  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  "leaving  no  trace  except 
a  little  blood  shed  in  their  service."  The  dinner  at  the 
Savoy  and  the  boy  and  girl  party  at  the  theatre  afterward 
were  given,  no  doubt,  more  in  honour  of  "Milly's  count" 
(who  was  starting  for  Petrograd  next  morning)  than  for 
me;  but  I  was  made  to  feel  myself  a  guest  of  importance; 
and  at  the  St.  James  I  had  Tony  next  to  me.  There  had 
been  no  chance  to  pour  out  my  news  at  dinner,  but  now  it 
came  and  I  seized  it  instantly.  Tony  was  always  nice  and 
sympathetic  to  tell  things  to!  He  actually  listened  and 
seemed  interested,  which  I've  noticed  that  few  people  do 
except  in  their  own  affairs.  But  the  next  minute  I  was 
sorry  I'd  spoken,  for  he  proposed  again  immediately.  I 
might  have  known  he  would !  "  You  see,  your  whole  fami 
ly's  bound  to  marry  Americans,  so  I  might  as  well  be  the 
one  for  you,"  he  said.  "If  you  don't  take  me,  Mrs.  Main 
will  produce  a  nephew  of  hers.  I  know  him — poisonous 


206  SECRET  HISTORY 

blighter — and  he'll  be  shoved  down  your  throat,  sure  as 
fate.  He's  some  homelier  than  me,  if  possible." 

I  laughed.  "Dear  Tony!  You're  much  too  good  to  be 
a  refuge  for  the  destitute." 

"Depends  on  the  destitute,"  said  he.  "I'd  love  to  be  a 
sort  of  asylum  or  young  ladies'  home  for  you.  Do  take  me 
this  time,  and  have  done  with  it  once  and  for  all." 

"It  wouldn't  be  done  with,"  I  reminded  him.  "That's 
the  worst  of  it." 

"It  might  be  the  best  of  it,  if  I  played  my  cards  right. 
You  know,  Peggy,  not  very  long  ago  as  the  bird  of  time 
flies,  you  said  you  liked  me  better  than  any  other  fellow. 
Has  my  stock  gone  down,  or  stands  it  where  it  did?" 

"Where  it  did,  or  even  a  point  or  two  higher,"  I  assured 
him.  "But,  dear  Tony,  I'm  afraid  even  that  isn't  high 
enough  for — for  marriage,  and  fearfully  serious  things  like 
that,  though  lovely  for  a  dance  or  the  theatre.  Besides,  I 
didn't  say  exactly  what  you  think  I  said." 

"About  liking  me  better  than  other  men?  Oh,  I  know 
you  made  one  exception.  'Tisn't  jolly  likely  I'd  forget! 
But  you  said  the  One  Exception  didn't  count.  I  haven't 
forgotten  that  either.  He  looked  on  you  as  his  sister  or  his 
maiden  aunt." 

"Oh,  not  his  maiden  aunt!"  I  moaned.  "I  could  bear 
anything  but  that.  And — and  I'm  afraid,  after  all,  he  does 
count — just  in  my  mind,  you  know,  not  in  any  other  way. 
But  he's  there  and  I  can't — can't  put  him  out.  I'm  afraid 
I  don't  want  to." 

"  Gee !  That's  a  bad  prospect  for  me,"  said  Tony  with  a 
big  sigh,  luckily  not  audible  over  the  orchestra  which  was 
loudly  playing  between  acts  "You  made  me  love  you,  I 


SECRET  HISTORY  207 

didn't  want  to  do  it!"  with  variations.  "But  see  here, 
Peggy,  it's  just  the  same  with  me  about  you.  I  can't  put 
you  out  of  my  mind,  and  I  don't  mean  to.  There  you  are! 
What  are  we  going  to  do  about  this?  Your  best  man  won't 
come  and  play  in  your  backyard,  and  my  best  girl  won't 
put  her  nose  in  mine.  You'll  always  be  my  best  girl,  be 
cause  you're  the  best  girl  there  is.  So  here's  an  idea: 
suppose  I  don't  ask  to  be  best  with  you,  and  don't  whine  to 
be  on  the  ground  floor  or  anything  conceited?  Couldn't 
you  spare  me  a  third-story  back  bedroom  in  your  heart's 
house?  Just  sort  of  lend  it  to  me,  you  know.  I'd  promise 
to  turn  out  if  you  couldn't  get  along  with  me  as  a  boarder 
when  you've  given  me  a  fair  trial.  Of  course,  though,  dear, 
I  don't  want  to  nag  at  you  if  there's  a  grain  of  chance  that 
the  best  man — the  real  tenant  of  the  house — will  ever 
come  to  his  right  senses!" 

"His  right  senses!"  I  almost  laughed.  "Why,  Tony,  for 
him  to  like  me — in  that  way — would  be  to  lose  them.  You 
don't  know  who  he  is." 

Tony  was  silent. 

" Or — do  you?     Have  you  been  guessing?  " 

"Mayn't  have  guessed  right,"  grumbled  Billiken 
evasively.  And  then  I  knew  that  he  knew  the  poor  little 
secret  I  had  thought  to  keep. 

"I  think  you  have  guessed  right,"  I  said.  "Don't  look 
as  if  you  were  afraid  you'd  hurt  me.  You  haven't.  I 
don't  much  mind  your  knowing.  And  that's  the  greatest 
compliment  I  could  pay  you.  It's  Eagle  March,  of  course." 

With  that  the  orchestra  stopped  dead  as  if  on  purpose  to 
eavesdrop,  and  I  had  made  a  present  of  the  name  to  the 
whole  audience.  But  luckily  that  was  all  I  had  given. 


208  SECRET  HISTORY 

Any  girl  may  yell  any  man's  name,  just  as  any  cat  may 
look  at  any  king.  All  the  same  my  cheeks  were  hot 
throughout  the  next  act,  during  which  I  pretended  to  be 
passionately  absorbed  in  the  play.  The  minute  it  was  over 
and  forced  silence  at  an  end,  Tony  boldly  said,  "  I  knew  it 
must  be  March,  all  the  time.  Not  that  you  showed  it ! "  he 
hurried  to  add.  "You're  too  good  plucked  an  infant  for 
that!  And  I'm  sure  he  never  twigged.  Not  he!  He's  not 
that  kind.  It  was  only  because  you  saw  a  lot  of  him,  that  I 
thought  so;  and  a  girl  who  wouldn't  fall  head  over  ears  in 
love  with  March,  if  he  was  always  underfoot,  wouldn't 
have  wit  enough  to  know  which  side  her  bread  was  but 
tered.  See?" 

I  laughed  again  more  than  before,  for  Tony  when  he 
meant  to  be  intensely  serious  was  generally  funny.  "Poor 
me!"  I  said.  "There  was  no  butter  on  my  bread,  nor  any 
jam.  I'm  a  fool  to  go  on  eating  it  bare  and  stale !  Imagine 
a  man  who  loved  Di  anticlimaxing  over  to  me!" 

"I  can't  imagine  any  man  not  beginning  and  ending  with 
you,"  said  Tony  stoutly,  and  I  shouldn't  have  been  a 
human  girl  if  his  loyal  admiration  hadn't  pleased  me.  "  But 
I  suppose  you're  a  better  judge  of  March  than  I  am,"  he 
went  on,  "and  so,  if  his  name's  not  down  on  the  pro 
gramme,  w^on't  you  write  mine  there — to  be  figurative 
again?  Scribble  it  in  pencil  if  you  like,  not  in  ink.  Then 
you  can  easily  rub  it  out  if  you  get  tired  of  seeing  it  always 
under  your  eyes." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  asked,  really  puzzled  by  his 
allegories. 

"Why,  be  engaged  to  me  on  the  instalment  plan.  Stop 
payment  whenever  you  want  to.  Agreement  to  be  drawn 


SECRET  HISTORY  209 

up  that  way.  All  these  weeks  you've  been  trying,  ac 
cording  to  promise,  haven't  you,  to  like  me  enough  to 
be  engaged?  Now,  instead,  try  being  engaged,  and  see 
whether  you  can  like  me  enough  to  strike  a  fast  bargain 
by  and  by.  You  might  come  along  to  Belgium  with  mater 
and  Milly  and  me — they're  dying  to  have  you.  Milly 
wants  to  bore  you  talking  about  her  Russian — and  we'll 
see  such  a  lot  of  each  other,  travelling,  that  you'll  know 
your  own  mind  by  the  time  my  leave's  up.  Think,  if  I 
could  take  you  back  to  God's  own  country  with  me  as  my 
— no,  I  won't  say  the  word.  I  see  it  shocks  you." 

"It  does,"  I  said.  "And  even  if  I  did  what  you  ask, 
which  would  be  nice  for  me,  but  not  fair  to  you,  nothing 
would  induce  me  to — to " 

"Marry?" 

"Yes,  so  soon.  I'm  too — young.  Unless  I  loved  you 
perfectly.  Then  I'd  marry  you  if  I  were  eight  instead  of 
eighteen." 

"  I  wouldn't  marry  you !  Must  draw  the  line  somewhere. 
But  if  you  really  think  it  would  be  nice,  why  not  do  it? 
/  think  it's  fair,  and  I'm  the  judge.  Say  yes,  quick,  be 
fore  that  darned  orchestra  stops  again.  You  shan't  be 
married  till  you  like,  even  if  I  have  to  wait  as  long  as  Jacob 
did  for  Rachel.  Not  that  I  know  how  long  that  was.  Say 
yes " 

"Yes,  then!"  I  shouted  over  an  appalling  blast  of 
instruments.  And  Tony  squeezed  my  hand. 

That  is  how  I  happened  to  start  for  Belgium  with  Mrs. 
Dalziel  and  Milly,  the  day  after  Father's  quiet  wedding 
with  Kitty  Main,  and  the  day  before  Austria  delivered 
her  ultimatum  to  Servia. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

NOT  being  politicians  or  war  prophets,  but  only 
tourists,  we  didn't  realize  what  a  flame  would 
sweep  over  Europe  on  the  winds  of  fury  from  this 
one  far-off  fiery  spark.     Tony  read  us  out  the  news  at 
breakfast  in  a  hotel  at  Bruges:  "Austria's  Ultimatum  to 
Servia";  whereupon  we  went  on  drinking  our  coffee  and 
eating  our  crisp  rolls  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

"Dear  me,  what  a  pity!"  sighed  Mrs.  Dalziel  absently. 
She  was  thinking  of  our  sight-seeing  expedition  for  which 
we  were  already  late.  Milly  remarked  that  somebody 
was  always  throwing  an  ultimatum  at  somebody  else's 
head,  and  asked  for  jam.  Tony  said  intelligently  that  it 
was  just  what  he  had  expected,  after  the  murder  of  the 
archduke  and  the  duchess,  and  looked  at  his  watch. 
As  for  me,  it  did  shoot  through  my  mind  that  Russia 
might  have  something  to  say  if  Servia  were  attacked;  and 
I  thought  that  if  I  were  Milly  I  should  have  a  qualm  of 
anxiety  about  my  cap  tain -count.  But  I  didn't  wish  to 
worry  her  with  such  a  remote  suggestion,  and  our  war  con 
versation  ended  there.  None  of  us  bothered  seriously 
with  the  papers  for  the  next  day  or  two.  Sight-seeing 
in  Belgium  seemed  to  us  the  last  thing  on  earth  which  could 
possibly  connect  itself  with  an  ultimatum,  or  even  a  decla 
ration  of  war  on  Servia.  We  went  from  Bruges  to  Ghent, 
from  Ghent  to  Antwerp,  from  Antwerp  to  Brussels,  from 

210 


SECRET  HISTORY  211 

Brussels  to  Namur,  to  Louvain,  and  Spa,  and  so  at  last 
arrived  at  Liege.  The  next  item  on  our  programme  was 
a  run  into  Luxemburg,  which  was  to  finish  our  trip; 
and  in  a  few  days  more  Tony  was  to  leave  us  to  catch  his 
ship  for  home,  as  his  holiday  was  over.  He  had  been  be 
having  so  well  that  I  minded  being  engaged  less  than  I'd 
expected;  and  it  was  nice  to  be  petted  by  Milly  and  Mrs. 
Dalziel  and  loaded  with  presents.  It  was  the  first  time 
in  my  life  that  I  had  experienced  anything  of  the  sort,  for 
I  had  always  been  the  one  who  didn't  matter,  at  home. 
Each  place  we  visited  seemed  more  beautiful  than  the  last, 
and  I  was  trying  hard  to  say  to  myself,  "This  is  happiness, 
or  all  you  can  expect  to  know.  Make  the  most  of  it,  and 
be  a  sensible  Peggy!" 

It  was  late  on  the  night  of  Wednesday,  July  29th,  when 
we  arrived  at  quaint  old  Liege;  and  though  we  knew  that 
Austria  had  declared  war,  and  that  all  the  great  powers 
were  muttering  thunderously,  it  didn't  seem  as  if  anything 
devastating  would  really  happen.  That  was  much  too  bad 
to  be  true,  and  everything  seemed  so  peaceful  and  com 
fortable.  Hotel  keepers  smiled  and  said  that  the  war 
scare  was  sure  to  blow  over  as  it  had  blown  over  time  after 
time  in  the  past.  We  met  other  people  gayly  touring  like 
ourselves.  They  all  appeared  to  be  easy  in  their  minds 
and  free  from  care,  so  we  followed  their  pleasant  example; 
and  the  sun  shone  on  us,  and  Belgium  seemed  the  prettiest 
and  most  pacific  of  all  countries,  basking  under  a  cloudless 
sky. 

"Telegram  for  you,  dear,"  Mrs.  Dalziel  said  to  Milly  as 
she  sorted  the  post  handed  to  her  by  the  man  in  the  hotel 
bureau  at  Liege.  Then  she  dealt  out  envelopes  to  Tony 


SECRET  HISTORY 

and  me,  and  we  were  rather  sleepily  busied  with  them 
when  Milly  gave  a  gasp.  "  Oh,  Mamma,  he's  got  to  fight !  " 
she  squealed. 

"He — who?"  questioned  Mrs.  Dalziel  dazedly  in  the 
midst  of  deciphering  a  closely  written  and  crossed  page  of 
thin  foreign  paper. 

"  Stefan ! "  Milly  choked  on  the  name.  "  Oh,  it 's  awful ! 
His  father  has  consented  to  his  marrying  me  all  right,  but 
of  course  he'll  go  and — and  be  killed  now,  and  I  shall  never 
see  him  again!  I'm  the  unluckiest  girl  that  ever  lived. 
And  just  when  I  thought  everything  was  going  to  be  so 
splendid." 

I  heard  her  wailing  as  I  finished  my  letter,  which  was 
from  Di:  the  first  she  had  written  me.  It  had  gone  to 
Brussels  and  been  forwarded  from  there  to  Liege.  "Sid 
ney  and  I  are  rushing  back  to  London  as  fast  as  the  car 
will  take  us,"  she  wrote.  "This  war  news  is  terrible. 
Any  minute  we  may  hear  that  England's  mixed  up  in  the 
business.  There's  no  more  fun  motoring  about  the  coun 
try  in  this  suspense;  and  if  there's  war,  all  the  house  parties 
we  were  asked  to  in  Scotland  are  sure  to  be  given  up.  We 
want  to  be  where  we  can  have  news  every  minute,  and 
will  hurry  up  the  decorators  so  we  can  get  into  our  house, 
even  if  things  are  at  sixes  and  sevens  there.  From  what 
I  hear,  everybody  will  be  congregating  in  London  to  be  in 
the  heart  of  things.  It  makes  me  sick  to  think  of  all  my 
lovely  clothes!  If  there's  war,  nobody  will  be  wearing 
anything.  All  the  nicest  men  will  be  away  at  the  front. 
Isn't  it  sickening?  Luckily,  Sidney  won't  have  to  fight,  as 
America's  not  involved.  But  I  don't  want  to  go  over 
there  and  have  people  at  home  calling  me  a  coivard,  to 


SECRET  HISTORY  213 

sneak  away  from  under  the  Zeppelins  and  things  the  Ger 
mans  will  be  sending  over.  I  want  to  do  what  everybody 
else  does,  though  Heaven  alone  knows  yet  what  that  will 
be.  I  expect  Bally  and  Kitty  will  come  back  from  Harro- 
gate,  where  poor  dear  Bally  is  celebrating  his  honeymoon 
by  taking  a  strict  cure,  and  I  hear  Kitty  is  doing  mud  baths 
to  reduce  her  flesh.  They  wire  that  there  isn't  one  waiter 
out  of  sixty  left  in  their  hotel — all  were  Germans;  so  you 
see  what  that  means.  And  Kitty's  maid  had  hysterics 
this  morning  because  war's  to  be  declared  on  her  country, 
and  because  the  hotel  chambermaids  are  all  turned  into 
waitresses,  and  she  had  to  make  Bally's  and  Kitty's  beds. 
One  realizes  that  war  will  be  horrible  for  all  classes.  Your 
life  won't  be  safe  on  the  Continent,  you  know,  and  you'd 
better  persuade  Mrs.  D.  to  bring  you  back  immediately. 
Though  you've  been  so  horrid  to  Sidney,  he'll  overlook  it 
in  this  crisis,  for  my  sake,  when  even  Ulsterites  and  Nation 
alists  are  forgiving  each  other.  Father  and  Kitty  will 
have  to  stay  with  us  when  they  arrive,  as  the  Norfolk 
Street  house  is  given  up;  and  you  must  of  course  come,  too. 
You  can  be  our  guest  till  you  and  Tony  are  married,  if 
you  don't  want  your  engagement  to  last  too  long." 

I  hardly  knew  whether  I  most  wanted  to  laugh  or  cry 
over  that  letter.  All  I  did  know  was  that  nothing  would 
induce  me  to  stay  with  Diana  and  Sidney  Vandyke.  I 
would  even  rather  be  married,  if  worst  came  to  worst;  but 
though  Tony  and  I  were  playing  at  being  engaged,  the 
thought  of  actually  marrying  him  was  like  jumping  over  a 
precipice.  I  wasn't  ready  for  the  precipice  yet,  and  must 
avoid  it  if  I  could. 

I  folded  up  the  letter  and  kept  its  news  and  its  sug- 


214  SECRET  HISTORY 

gestions  to  myself.  I  sympathized  with  Milly;  and  hoped 
that,  after  all,  even  if  Russia  and  Austria  and  Servia  and 
Germany  flew  in  each  others'  faces,  it  might  be  possible 
for  England  and  France  and  Italy  to  keep  the  peace.  Di 
was  always  inclined  to  exaggerate,  and  probably  she  was 
glad  of  any  excuse  by  this  time  to  put  an  end  to  a  motoring 
tete-a-tete  with  Sidney. 

I  went  to  bed  and  tried  to  believe  that  I  had  had  a  bad 
dream,  but  next  morning  I  was  still  dreaming  it.  The 
papers  told  us  how  the  Stock  Exchange  in  London  had 
closed,  which  seemed  like  hearing  that  England  had  sud 
denly  gone  under  the  sea.  Belgrade  was  being  bombarded. 
The  Germans  as  well  as  Russians  were  mobilizing  furiously. 
King  George  had  telegraphed  to  the  Czar,  but  before  his 
message  had  time  to  reach  Petrograd,  the  Kaiser  had  de 
clared  war  on  Russia.  Belgium  had  begun  mobilizing 
too,  and  only  just  in  time.  Trains  were  wanted  for  the 
soldiers.  Frightened  tourists  clamoured  in  vain  to  get 
away.  Even  those  who  had  automobiles  could  hardly 
move  along  the  roads,  and  many  chauffeurs  were  called 
to  their  colours.  Ours  was  French,  and  went  off  at  a 
moment's  notice,  with  just  time  for  a  polite  "Adieu,  peut- 
etre  pour  toujours"  Tony  hated  everything  mechanical 
except  rules  and  revolvers,  and  had  never  learned 
to  drive  a  car;  Belgian  chauffeurs  had  something  better 
to  do  than  help  travellers  out  of  trouble;  so  there  we  were! 

It  seemed  only  another  phase  of  the  dream  from  which 
we  could  not  wake,  when  glittering  hordes  of  German 
cavalry,  the  Kaiser's  beloved  uhlans,  were  said  to  be  clank 
ing  over  the  frontier  to  violate  the  neutrality  of  Belgium, 
and  we  heard  that  Great  Britain  had  declared  war  on 


SECRET  HISTORY  215 

Germany.  I  would  have  given  anything  to  be  back  in 
England  then,  not  because  I  was  afraid  of  what  might 
happen  in  Belgium,  but  because  my  blood  was  hot  with 
pride  of  my  country,  and  I  wanted  to  be  there  to  see  the 
spirit  of  the  people  rise.  There  was  little  time  to  think, 
however,  for  Liege  was  seething  with  excitement.  Fugi 
tives  began  to  pour  into  the  town,  with  children  and  bundles 
in  queer  little  carts  drawn  by  dogs.  Soldiers  bade  their 
families  good-bye  in  the  streets,  and  marched  or  rode  off 
in  clouds  of  dust.  Wounded  men  were  brought  from  the 
frontier,  and  an  annex  of  our  old-fashioned,  dormer- 
windowed  hotel  was  hastily  turned  into  a  hospital.  Red 
Cross  nurses  appeared  from  somewhere,  and  several  women 
among  the  penned-up  tourists  volunteered  to  help.  Mrs. 
Dalziel  could  do  nothing,  because  she  had  collapsed  with 
fear,  and  was  sure  that  she  was  in  for  nervous  prostration. 
Milly  had  her  mother  to  care  for;  but  I  was  free,  and  thanks 
to  my  work  in  Ballyconal,  I  knew  something  about  first 
aid.  Ever  since  I  met  Eagle  and  he  had  given  me  the  old 
-cadet  chevron,  which  I  carried  with  me  everywhere,  I 
had  grown  more  and  more  keen  on  learning  to  do  what  I 
could  for  others,  and  war  talk  in  Texas  had  prompted  me 
to  buy  books  on  nursing. 

I  mentioned  this  as  a  personal  recommendation;  the 
real  nurses  smiled.  But  they  accepted  my  services  as  a 
probationer,  strong  and  willing,  and  glad  to  do  what  she 
was  told,  even  to  scrub  floors  with  disinfectant  fluid. 

"You'll  spoil  you  hands,"  said  Milly. 

I  laughed. 

Almost  at  once  after  this  began  the  bombardment  of  the 
forts  at  Liege;  and  all  day  long  and  most  of  the  night  we 


216  SECRET  HISTORY 

were  deafened  with  the  boom  of  great  guns  across  the  river. 
It  was  a  relief  to  be  allowed  to  watch  through  the  dark 
hours  beside  soldiers  whose  wounds  were  not  serious  enough 
to  need  expert  care  that  I  could  not  give.  Even  if  I  had 
been  in  bed  I  should  not  have  slept.  I  felt  as  if  my  brain 
were  part  of  the  battlefield  where  armies  marched  and 
fought.  My  heartbeats  were  the  drums.  We  grew  used 
to  the  firing  of  cannon.  It  seemed  a  part  of  everyday  life. 
It  was  hard  to  remember  after  the  first  that  each  "boom!" 
meant  lives  ended  in  violence.  Perhaps  if  we  had  remem 
bered  we  should  have  gone  mad. 

Suddenly,  on  the  third  day,  just  at  dawn,  came  a  new 
sound,  a  great  whirring  like  a  thousand  racing  automobiles, 
and  then  two  loud  explosions,  one  after  the  other,  different 
from  the  roar  of  cannon  or  the  shots  from  the  field  guns 
that  night  at  El  Paso.  The  whole  building  shook  as  if  it 
must  fall,  and  wounded  men  who  had  slept  restlessly 
through  the  thunder  from  the  forts  waked  with  a  wild  start. 
My  charge,  a  Belgian  boy  of  nineteen  whose  arms  had  been 
amputated,  shivered  and  then  relapsed  into  stoical  calm  as 
the  house  ceased  to  shake.  "Zeppelin,"  he  said,  in  a  quiet 
voice.  "They  have  dropped  bombs." 

It  seemed  that  two  must  have  fallen  and  burst  close  by, 
the  noise  had  been  so  ear-shattering.  Up  from  the  street 
below  our  windows  came  a  clamour  of  voices,  shrill  and 
sharp,  which  cut  through  the  constant  whirr  of  the  giant 
motor.  Near  the  head  of  the  bed  was  an  open  window, 
and  mechanically,  rather  than  of  my  own  free  will,  I  leaned 
far  out,  as  some  of  the  professional  nurses  were  leaning 
from  other  windows. 

"You  might  get  a  bomb  on  your  head,"  said  my  soldier, 


SECRET  HISTORY  217 

in  his  tired  voice.  But  I  did  not  draw  back.  I  was 
surprised  to  find  that  I  was  not  afraid.  It  seemed  just 
then  ridiculous,  puny,  to  care  about  one's  self.  I  was  awe 
struck  rather  than  terrified,  realizing  with  a  solemnity  I  had 
never  known  that  the  next  minute  might  be  the  last  on 
earth  for  all  of  us  in  that  dimly  lit  room  of  narrow 
beds. 

The  sky  was  faintly  gray  with  coming  dawn.  I  looked 
up,  up  into  the  pale  dome,  seeking  with  my  eyes  the  great 
bird  of  evil  that  had  laid  its  eggs  of  death.  There  it  was, 
immensely  high  above  the  black,  shadowy  roofs  and 
steeples  of  the  hill  and  plain;  a  sinister  shape,  like  all  the 
German  sausages  in  the  world  rolled  into  one;  and  hanging 
from  it  cars  full  of  men  reduced  to  the  size  of  beetles  by 
that  great  height. 

The  thing  was  almost  directly  overhead  as  I  looked  up, 
and  it  seemed  that  if  it  dropped  a  parting  bomb  as  it  sailed 
our  poor  little  hospital  must  be  struck.  Yet  I  continued 
to  stare,  fascinated.  Life  and  death  were  twin  brother  and 
sister,  equally  terrible  and  splendid. 

"I  wish  I  could  have  seen  Eagle  just  once  again/'  I  heard 
myself  thinking,  as  one  hears  the  ticking  of  a  watch  under  a 
pillow.  But  I  felt  a  strange,  throbbing  eagerness  to  know 
quickly  the  great  secret  of  what  comes  next  after  this  world, 
with  its  seeming  muddle  of  injustice  and  disappointment,  its 
joys  and  broken  aspirations.  "Why!  it  was  like  this  with 
me  when  we  had  our  accident  in  the  Golden  Eagle!"  I 
thought.  And  even  as  the  remembrance  flitted  ghost 
like  through  my  brain,  I  saw  tearing  through  the  sky,  far 
above  the  big  bulk  of  the  Zeppelin,  a  monoplane  etched  in 
black  against  the  light  of  dawn. 


218  SECRET  HISTORY 

I  could  hardly  believe  that  it  was  really  there.  It  must 
be  an  image  called  up  by  memory  of  that  long-past  moment, 
some  strange  illusion  of  an  exalted  mind:  but  the  image 
persisted.  Like  a  hawk  it  swept  along  the  sky,  coming 
from  a  direction  opposite  to  that  of  the  Zeppelin,  as  if  to 
swoop  upon  it  from  above.  I  thought  I  heard  shots.  The 
great  dirigible  turned  and  sailed  faster.  I  felt  as  if  I  were 
all  eyes  and  pounding  heart.  Could  the  sight  be  real,  this 
duel  in  the  sky?  Perhaps  others  watched  it  with  me — I  do 
not  know.  It  seemed  that  I  was  alone  on  earth  gazing  at 
the  incredible  battle. 

The  Zeppelin  made  off,  away  from  the  town  toward  the 
fortifications,  but  the  monoplane  kept  above  it,  despite  the 
shots  which  spattered  futilely.  Just  as  the  dirigible  passed 
over  the  bridge,  which  hadn't  yet  been  blown  up,  looking 
enormous,  for  it  hung  lower  now,  the  monoplane — tiny  in 
comparison — dived  full  upon  it.  With  an  explosion  of  gas 
from  the  huge  cigar-shaped  balloon,  the  dirigible  dropped 
earthward,  its  bird  enemy  seeming  to  fall  with  it. 

I  gave  a  cry  and  covered  my  eyes  with  both  hands. 


I  felt  that  I  had  been  broken,  crumpled  up  like  a  singed 
moth,  burnt  by  the  vivid  flame  of  that  awful  sight.  But 
arms  caught  me  from  behind,  as  I  would  have  sunk  to  the 
floor  with  the  roar  of  another  explosion  in  my  ears,  each 
brick  of  the  house  quivering  on  another.  A  kind  Belgian 
voice  was  soothing  me:  " Pauvre  enfantl"  and  hands, 
strong,  though  womanly,  would  have  pulled  me  away  from 
the  window  to  lay  me  down  on  some  unoccupied  bunk,  if  I 
had  not  struggled  to  keep  my  place.  "No — no!"  I  stam- 


SECRET  HISTORY  219 

mered.  "I'm  not  going  to  faint.  I  must  see!  I  must!" 
And  shaking  off  the  nurse's  protecting  arms,  I  stared 
out  toward  an  open  space  away  from  the  town,  where 
avast  mass  of  wreckage  blazed,  turning  the  gray  dawn 
red. 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

OUEL  her os ! "  rapturously  sobbed  the  Belgian  nurse 
who  held  me.  "  It  is  he  who  has  saved  the  lives  of 
all  our  poor  wounded  ones,  and  our  lives,  too. 
Did  you  not  see  the  monster  over  our  heads?  It  had  to 
turn  just  in  the  nick  of  time.  An  instant  more,  and  there 
would  have  been  a  bomb  for  us.  Thank  heaven!  And 
thank  the  hero  sent  by  heaven!" 

It  was  a  deed,  I  thought,  worthy  of  Eagle  March  himself. 
The  air  scout  who  had  accomplished  it  was  his  soul  brother 
no  matter  what  country  had  given  him  birth. 

"Is  it  certain,  do  you  think,  that  all  those  men  in  the 
Zeppelin  died  there  together?"  I  gasped. 

"Every  man  of  them,  yes,  it  is  certain." 

"But  he — the  man  of  the  monoplane?  He  fell  with 
them?" 

"He  fell,  yes,  my  child.  But  he  fell  free  of  the  Zeppelin. 
He  is  not  in  that  fire  cauldron  there.  Didn't  you  see  the 
end  of  what  happened?" 

"  No ! "  I  said .     "  For  a  second  I  covered  my  eyes . ' ' 

"  Oh,  it  was  all  in  that  second !  We  thought  he  was  lost, 
sacrificed  for  us;  and  even  now  it  is  most  likely  that  he  is 
dead.  We  saw  the  Zeppelin  drop  away  from  under  the 
monoplane.  Then  came  the  flare  of  light,  with  the  gas  ex 
ploding  and  catching  fire.  But  just  before  that,  the  mono 
plane  was  poised  in  the  air  for  an  instant  above  the 

220 


SECRET  HISTORY  221 

great  falling  shape.  It  seemed  to — do  you  call  it  'plane* 
down?  All  that  happened  was  so  quick  and  sudden,  and 
the  aeroplane  came  to  earth  so  fast  we  could  not  be  sure  of 
her  fate.  But  if  she  fell,  she  fell  free  of  the  Zeppelin.  We 
shall  soon  hear.  The  other  hospitals  in  town  are  full 
already,  except  our  little  one,  which  has  still  room  for  a  few. 
If  any  are  saved  from  either  of  the  wrecks,  they  will  be 
brought  here,  unless  we  have  filled  up  our  beds  meanwhile 
with  people  hurt  by  the  Zeppelin  bombs." 

By  the  mingled  dawnlight  and  firelight  we  could  see 
figures  running  to  the  fields  where  the  wreck  of  the  great 
dirigible  and  the  heroic  little  monoplane  had  come  down. 
But  long  before  news  arrived  of  the  occupants'  fate  we 
heard  that  none  of  the  townsfolk  had  been  injured  by  the 
explosion  of  the  only  two  bombs  which  the  Zeppelin  had 
been  given  time  to  drop.  Three  or  four  buildings  had 
suffered  more  or  less,  but  fortunately  they  were  shops,  and 
nobody  had  been  sleeping  there.  One  bomb  had  fallen 
near  a  hospital,  and  Tony  Dalziel,  hearing  a  rumour  that 
the  "Annex"  (as  ours  was  called)  had  been  struck,  came 
rushing  from  the  hotel  close  by  to  find  out  what  had  been 
my  fate.  When  he  saw  the  steep-roofed  building  un 
touched,  and  with  lighted  windows,  he  was  relieved,  but 
ventured  to  ask  for  me,  and  I  ran  down  to  speak  with  him 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  for  a  moment. 

"Peggy!  I  just  can't  stand  for  this!"  he  groaned,  and 
the  tragedy  in  his  voice  contrasted  so  quaintly  with  his 
comic  appearance,  bareheaded,  hair  ruffled,  and  costume 
sketchy,  that  I  felt  rising  symptoms  of  hysteria,  which 
had  to  be  controlled.  "I  must  get  you  and  the  mater 
and  Milly  into  safety  somehow.  To-night  is  the  limit. 


222  SECRET  HISTORY 

Mater's  more  dead  than  alive,  and  Mill  isn't  much  bet 
ter." 

"Don't  worry  about  me,  anyhow,"  I  said.  "You  see,  I 
don't  much  care  whether  I'm  dead  or  alive.  That  simplifies 
things  a  lot !  I  wouldn't  go  away  now  if  I  could." 

"You  shall  go,  the  first  chance  there  is,"  insisted  Tony, 
with  new  authority.  "And  it  may  come  soon.  There  are 
some  high-up  Belgian  officers  at  the  hotel  to-night.  They 
came  in  an  automobile  not  so  big  as  ours,  and  it's  broken 
down.  If  they  can't  get  it  right  by  to-morrow,  when  they 
want  to  go  back  to  Brussels,  where  they  came  from,  I'll 
make  'em  a  present  of  our  car  for  the  rest  of  the  war,  if 
they'll  take  us  with  them.  You  see,  it's  a  serious  matter 
with  me.  Things  are  getting  worse  here,  and  my  leave '11 
soon  be  up.  You  don't  think  I'd  go,  and  let  you  stay  shut 
up  in  Liege  with  bombs  falling  all  round  you  and  perhaps 
on  you?" 

"Look!"  I  said,  forgetting  to  answer,  as  I  peered  out 
through  the  open  street  door.  "Here  come  some  men  with 
a  litter.  They're  bringing  it  this  way.  Oh,  Tony,  if  it 
should  be  the  man  of  the  monoplane!  They  think  in  the 
hospital  that  he  fell  with  his  machine  clear  of  the  Zeppelin, 
and  may  be  alive." 

Ahead  of  the  slowly  borne  litter  ran  a  youth  with  a  Red 
Cross  band  on  his  arm.  Seeing  my  nurse's  cap  and  apron, 
all  the  uniform  I  had,  he  began  speaking  breathlessly  in 
Belgian  French.  Had  we  a  bed?  Our  nurses  had  sent 
word  yesterday  that  if  two  or  three  were  needed,  we  could 
supply  them.  He  hoped  they  hadn't  filled  up  since,  as  here 
was  an  urgent  case:  the  aviator  who  had  attacked  the 
Zeppelin,  and  destroyed  it  by  plunging  on  to  its  balloon  at 


SECRET  HISTORY  223 

the  risk  of  almost  certain  death.  But  he  was  not  dead,  and 
might  live  if  he  could  have  prompt  surgical  attendance  and 
nursing. 

"Yes,  we  can  take  him  in,"  I  said.  "Everything  is 
ready,  and  I'll  run  ahead  of  you  to  warn  the  staff." 

"Tell  them,"  the  Red  Cross  man  called  after  me,  as,  for 
getful  of  Tony,  I  turned  to  fly,  "tell  them  we  think  it  is 
the  British  or  American  Monsieur  Mars  who  did  us  such 
service,  bringing  news  to  the  forts  from  over  the  Ger 
man  frontier  two  days  ago." 

I  dashed  on  without  stopping  to  answer  or  look  back,  for 
the  litter  was  arriving;  and  it  was  not  till  I  repeated  the 
name,  as  I  gave  in  my  hurried  report,  that  the  sound  of  it 
on  my  own  lips  made  my  heart  jump.  Monsieur  Mars! 
Could  it  be.  ...  The  thought  was  too  far-fetched. 
I  dared  not  harbour  it. 

My  ward  was  on  the  top  floor,  where  the  least  serious 
cases  were  treated,  men  who  could  be  got  upstairs  with 
out  too  much  strain  and  suffering.  On  the  ground  floor 
one  bed  was  free,  as  I  knew,  and  it  was  into  that  ward  I 
went  to  tell  the  news  to  the  matron.  Perhaps  when  my 
duty  was  done  I  did  not  hurry  overmuch  to  return  to  my 
own  less  interesting  post;  and  I  was  still  in  the  principal 
ward  when  the  canvas  litter  borne  by  four  Red  Cross  men 
was  carried  in.  Doctors  and  nurses  pressed  forward  to 
meet  it,  and  I  flattened  myself  against  the  wall,  sick  with 
mingled  fear  and  longing.  Again  I  thought,  what  if .  .  . 

The  big  room  which  a  week  ago  had  been  the  restaurant 
of  our  prosperous  hotel  annex  was  still  lit  by  electric  lamps 
fantastically  unsuited  to  a  hospital  ward:  chandeliers  of 
sprawling  gilt  branches  decorated  with  metallic  imitations 


224  SECRET  HISTORY 

of  mistletoe.  The  light  of  day  outside  was  filtering  in 
but  dimly,  yet  it  paled  and  made  ghastly  the  yellowish 
glow  of  electricity.  Even  the  doctors  and  nurses  with 
their  tired  faces  looked  like  ghosts,  and  the  wounded  sol 
diers  in  their  narrow  white  cots  seemed  figures  of  dead  men 
modelled  in  wax.  Some  of  them  opened  their  eyes,  in  deep 
violet  hollows;  others  kept  the  lids  down,  caring  for  or  con 
scious  of  nothing.  The  staff  who  received  the  litter,  and 
the  Red  Cross  men  who  brought  it,  spoke  in  low  voices, 
but  never  in  irritating  whispers.  The  moving  feet  made 
only  a  faint  pattering  sound  on  the  linoleum-covered  floor, 
and  the  litter  was  set  down  noiselessly  at  the  side  of 
the  one  free  bed  in  the  ward.  Near  it  stood  a  screen 
which  only  a  few  hours  ago  had  hidden  the  death  agony 
of  a  soldier.  I  looked  at  this  and  shuddered,  thinking  once 
again,  "  What  if  it  were  he! "  and  if  the  screen  should  be 
needed  again  for  the  same  purpose. 

Where  I  lurked,  out  of  every  one's  way,  yet  close  to  the 
door,  flat  as  a  paper  doll,  against  the  wall  which  smelled  of 
carbolic  acid,  nobody  troubled  about  me.  I  was  just  one 
of  the  younger  nurses,  and  none  stopped  to  ask  whether 
my  place  were  there  or  upstairs  in  another  ward. 

"Oh  God,  if  it  be  he,  let  him  live!"  I  heard  my  soul 
praying. 

Nurses  leaned  over  the  long  dark  form  on  the  litter, 
whose  face  I  could  not  see,  because  where  I  stood  only 
the  top  of  the  head  was  visible,  a  head  thickly  covered 
with  short  rumpled  hair,  which  might  be  blond  or  brown 
when  the  blood  stains  were  washed  off.  The  bending 
figures  quickly,  skilfully  cut  away  the  stained  and  black 
ened  clothing,  and  when  it  was  the  surgeon's  turn  to 


SECRET  HISTORY  225 

examine  and  perhaps  to  operate,  some  one  noticed  the 
intruder.  The  head  nurse  came  to  me  and  laid  a  hand  on 
my  shoulder.  "My  child,  it  was  you  who  brought  us  the 
word  just  now!"  she  said  kindly,  her  eyes  on  my  pallid 
face.  "But  you  must  go  to  your  own  duties.  This  is  a 
great  honour  we  have,  to  care  for  the  hero  who  has  saved 
us.  It  must  be  our  turn  to  save  him.  Go  tell  the  news 
in  the  upper  wards,  that  we  hope  for  the  best,  the  very 
best.  Say  to  the  doctors  that  it  is  indeed  Monsieur  Mars. 
They  will  know  the  name.  They  will  have  heard  of  him, 
and  what  he  did  for  Liege  only  the  other  day." 

"I'll  go,  but  one  instant  first,  I  implore  you,  nurse!" 
I  pleaded.  "I  think — it  may  be — that  Monsieur  Mars 
is  an  old  friend  of  mine.  I  beg  you  to  let  me  have  a  glimpse 
of  his  face!" 

She  looked  at  me  and  hesitated;  but  my  imploring  eyes, 
which  suddenly  spouted  tears,  decided  her  kind  heart  in 
my  favour.  "One  glance,  then;  but  control  yourself," 
she  said.  And  taking  me  round  the  waist,  she  led  me 
quickly  across  the  room.  "Mademoiselle,  our  young 
British  assistant  thinks  she  knows  the  patient,"  the  matron 
announced.  "Make  way  for  her,  an  instant.  Then  she 
will  go  to  her  own  ward." 

Some  one  pushed  me  forward,  at  the  same  time  holding 
me  firmly  lest  I  should  collapse.  One  fleeting  glance  was 
vouchsafed  me  of  a  form  covered  with  a  sheet,  and  a  black 
ened,  blood-smeared  face,  with  half-closed  eyes  whose 
whites  showed  under  the  lids,  and  on  whose  lips  was  some 
strange  semblance  of  a  happy  smile.  To  those  who  did  not 
know  him  well,  or  love  him  beyond  all  the  world,  that 
marred  face  might  have  been  unrecognizable  in  its  mask 


226  SECRET  HISTORY 

of  dirt  and  blood.  But  nothing  could  disguise  it  from 
me.  Monsieur  Mars,  the  wounded  hero  of  Liege,  and  Cap 
tain  Eagle  March,  late  of  the  American  army,  were  one 
and  the  same. 


I  didn't  faint,  but  I  don't  remember  anything  else  till 
I  found  myself  sitting  on  a  chair  in  my  own  ward.  The 
nurses  were  having  morning  coffee.  One  of  them  gave  me  a 
cup.  If  I  hadn't  been  a  nurse  myself,  with  patients  to 
think  of,  I  should  have  dropped  it  and  burst  out  crying. 
But  instead,  I  drank  the  coffee;  and  a  moment  later  went 
back  to  the  bedside  of  the  man  I  had  been  tending  before 
leave  was  granted  me  to  see  Tony. 

"You  look  as  if  you'd  met  the  ghost  of  some  one  you 
love,"  said  the  nurse  who  had  been  keeping  my  place. 

But  he  was  not  a  ghost.     Not  yet — not  yet! 


CHAPTER  XIX 

TIDINGS  of  the  new  hero  of  Liege  floated  up 
to  our  ward  within  the  hour.  There  was  slight 
concussion  of  the  brain ;  there  were  scalp  wounds 
which  had  had  to  be  stitched  up;  and  there  were  many 
bruises;  but  the  surgeons  reported  no  bones  broken,  and 
complete  recovery  only  a  matter  of  days.  Even  the  mono 
plane  itself,  we  heard,  was  singularly  little  damaged.  All 
this  would  have  appeared  miraculous,  and  the  pious  Bel 
gians  would  have  attributed  it  to  direct  intervention  of 
the  Blessed  Virgin,  had  not  the  wrecked  dirigible  on  ex 
amination  told  a  silent  story  of  the  air  scout's  cleverness  as 
well  as  his  daring.  Before  swooping  on  the  Zeppelin 
from  above,  he  had  apparently  discharged  bombs  of  his 
own  on  the  balloon,  which  had  burst  before  the  mono 
plane  dashed  down  on  to  it,  and  the  great  bulk  had 
fallen  away  from  under,  without  carrying  the  lighter 
machine  to  destruction.  The  theory  which  awaited  cor- 
roboration  from  the  aviator  was  that  he  had  begun  to 
plane  down,  despite  some  damage,  and  had  actually  fallen 
but  a  short  distance,  striking  earth  a  hundred  yards  away 
from  the  wrecked  dirigible. 

Nobody  talked  about  anything  except  the  feat  of  the 
foreign  air  scout.  The  roar  of  the  cannon  from  the  fort 
had  ceased  to  make  us  jump;  and  it  was  better  to  chat 
about  Monsieur  Mars  than  to  murmur  in  each  other's  ears, 

227 


228  SECRET  HISTORY 

"How  long  before  THEY  slip  round  the  forts  and  get 
into  the  town?"  I  made  up  my  mind  that  whatever  hap 
pened,  nothing  should  tear  me  from  Liege  while  Eagle 
March  was  there.  And  when  Tony  sent  up  word  begging 
to  see  me  on  important  business,  in  imagination  I  was  de 
fending  Eagle's  hospital  cot  (naturally  with  him  in  it!) 
against  a  troop  of  uhlans.  In  that  mood,  Tony's  argu 
ments  about  my  going  away  made  as  much  impression  as 
the  chirp  of  a  sparrow  on  a  man  stone  deaf  in  both  ears. 

"Wild  horses,  much  less  wild  uhlans,  couldn't  drag  me 
out  of  this  place,"  I  said,  feeling  as  brave  and  firm  as  a 
story-book  heroine,  though  to  Tony  I  may  have  seemed 
obstinate  as  a  mule.  "What  do  you  take  me  for,  boy? 
Go  comfortably  away  in  a  motor  car  to  safety  indeed,  while 
Eagle  March  is  here,  lying  at  death's  door?  Or  if  he  isn't 
at  death's  door,  it's  only  because  the  angels  slammed  it  in 
his  face." 

"Eagle  March!  What  are  you  talking  about?"  Tony 
wanted  to  know,  looking  dazed.  I  had  forgotten  that 
there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  have  guessed  the  hero's 
identity,  and  I  dashed  into  explanations.  "Don't  tell 
people  yet,"  I  said,  "because  he  mayn't  want  it  talked 
about,  but  he's  the  *  Monsieur  Mars '  who's  been  helping 
Belgium  since  the  very  first  day  of  war.  Why,  they  say 
he  gave  the  warning  that  the  Germans  would  cross  the 
frontier.  Isn't  it  like  him?  And  how  silly  of  us  not  to 
guess,  the  minute  we  heard  the  name  of  'Mars!" 

"It  never  entered  my  head,  though  I've  heard  it  a 
dozen  times  before  this  last  feat,"  said  Tony.  "People 
were  talking  about  other  stunts  Mars  had  done.  But  I 
supposed  he  was  some  French  Johnny.  Are  you  sure  you're 


SECRET  HISTORY 

right?  Sure  it's  March,  I  mean?  It  does  seem  a  little 
too  strange  to  be  true,  that  he  should  turn  up — or  rather 
come  down — here,  of  all  places!" 

"'Too  strange  not  to  be  true,'"  I  quoted.  "Strange 
things  are  the  only  things  that  happen  in  war,  for  a  man 
like  him — a  man  without  a  country.  We  might  have 
known  he  would  come  to  the  rescue  of  Belgium!  And  I 
am  sure  I'm  right,  because  I've  seen  him." 

"Great  Scott!"  was  all  that  Tony  had  to  say  for  a  min 
ute.  Then  he  went  on  in  a  changed  and  heavy  tone:  "I 
suppose  you're  nursing  him?" 

"No  such  luck!"  I  answered.  "I'm  not  experienced 
enough.  But  I'm  debating  whether  I  might  ask  to  see 
him,  when  he  gets  better,  on  the  strength  of  old  friendship. 
I  don't  think  he'd  mind  my  claiming  acquaintance  with 
'Monsieur  Mars.'" 

"Mind?  I  guess  not!"  said  Tony.  "But  how  soon 
will  he  be  better?" 

"He'll  be  nearly  well,  they  hope,  in  a  few  days." 

"He'll  have  to  be,  by  George,  if  he  wants  to  get  out  of 
town  with  his  monoplane  before  the  Germans  walk  in. 
The  Belgians  are  the  heroes  of  Europe,  but  there  aren't 
enough  of  'em  to  hold  out  forever,  and  that's  why  you 
must  go  with  us,  Peggy,  March  or  no  March.  He'd  be  the 
first  one  to  tell  you  to  clear  out,  if  he  had  his  wits  about 
him." 

"I  dare  say  he  would,  but  he  hasn't  got  them  yet,"  I 
replied  calmly.  "You  don't  really  expect  me  to  leave  him, 
do  you,  Tony,  after — after  all  I've  confessed  to  you?" 

"I  expect  you  to  see  reason,"  Tony  lamely  persisted. 
"There's  just  one  thing  to  do,  and  that  is  to  scoot  while 


230  SECRET  HISTORY 

there's  a  chance.  If  I  were  alone  without  the  mater  and 
Milly,  I'd  say  let's  hang  on  for  a  day  or  two  longer  and 
run  the  risk — though  running  it  might  make  me  overstay 
my  leave.  That  would  be  nothing,  though.  I  wouldn't 
think  of  myself  in  any  way.  But  I  can't  let  my  mother 
and  sister  go  without  me  to  look  after  them  as  well  as 
I'm  able.  I  can't  ask  them  to  stop,  and  they  wouldn't  if 
I  did,  for  they're  wild  to  get  away.  Yet  how  can  I  let 
you  stay  here  alone?  March  would  be  furious  with  you, 
if  he  came  back  to  himself  and  found  you  hanging  on." 

I  laughed.     "He  couldn't  kiU  me!" 

"The  Germans  could." 

"In  spite  of  the  red  cross,  and  my  lovely  cap  and  apron? 
Well,  I'm  not  afraid.  And  Eagle  wrill  never  know  that  I 
stopped  for  his  sake  when  I  might  have  gone.  I'm  not 
sure  I  shouldn't  have  stayed  in  any  case." 

"I'm  sure  you  wouldn't,  if  I'd  had  to  use  force.  But 
you  see  what  a  position  you  put  me  in,  Peggy.  How  can 
I,  a  chap  you  don't  care  a  snap  for  at  heart,  hope  to  drag 
you  away  from  the  one  who's  got  it  all?  And  yet,  what 
am  I  to  do  if  you  refuse  to  come?" 

"Dear  Tony,"  I  said  quietly,  "I  do  care  lots  of  snaps 
for  you,  more  than  I  ever  did,  I  think.  But — oh,  I  must  say 
it ! — '  snaps  '  is  just  the  poor  little  word  that's  appropriate 
compared  to  what  I  feel  for  Eagle.  All  I  have  and  am 
is  for  him,  though  he  doesn't  want  it,  and  will  never  know, 
I  hope,  what  a  fool  his  *  little  friend '  is  over  him." 

In  silence  Tony  received  the  blow  I  had  to  strike.  He 
stood  with  his  head  down  for  a  minute,  while  I  ached  with 
pity  for  him  and  for  myself — though  I  hated  myself,  too, 
because  I  was  hurting  him. 


SECRET  HISTORY  231 

"You  must  go  with  Mrs.  Dalziel  and  Milly,"  I  said, 
when  he  didn't  speak.  "It's  the  only  way.  I  shall  be 
safe  enough — as  safe  as  the  other  nurses.  Who  knows," 
and  I  laughed  uneasily  to  break  the  barrier  of  restraint, 
"but  Eagle  will  take  me  away  in  his  monoplane?  That 
would  be  a  splendid  solution  of  the  difficulty,  wouldn't  it?  " 
I  spoke  only  in  jest,  but  Tony  accepted  the  idea  half 
seriously. 

"Yes,  that's  exactly  what  will  happen,  I  expect,"  he 
said.  "You'll  go  off  with  him.  Anyhow,  I've  lost  you! 
I  see  that.  You  could  never  put  up  with  me  after  this 
experience.  That's  true,  isn't  it,  Peggy?" 

The  same  thought,  put  in  a  less  brutal  way,  had  been 
heavy  in  my  heart  since  my  glimpse  of  Eagle  lying  uncon 
scious  on  the  litter.  I  knew  then  that  I  was  married  to 
my  love  for  him  and  that  any  other  marriage  would  be 
worse  than  illegal. 

I  hesitated  how  to  answer,  but  perhaps  my  silence 
spoke  as  clearly  as  words.  "Don't  look  as  if  you'd  just 
lost  your  last  friend,  my  poor  child,"  Tony  said,  in  his  good, 
warm  way.  "You  haven't  lost  me,  you  know,  though  I've 
lost  you.  And  you  needn't  look  so  guilty,  either,  as  if  you'd 
murdered  me  and  buried  me  under  the  leaves!  I  was 
always  expecting  this  thing  to  come,  though  I  didn't  fore 
see  the  way  of  it.  If  ever  I  felt  tempted  to  believe  our 
engagement  was  getting  to  be  the  real  thing,  why,  I  said  to 
myself,  *  Wait  till  she  sees  March  again  before  you  begin  to 
be  cocksure,  my  man.'  Well,  now  you've  seen  him.  And 
I  guess  you've  seen  in  the  same  minute  that  our  experiment 
has  failed." 

"  I'm— afraid  that's  true,  Tony ! "  I  sighed.    "  I  can't  help 


232  SECRET  HISTORY 

it !  It  wouldn't  be  fair  to  you  for  us  to  go  on  as  we  are.  I 
shall  have  to  break  my  word  to  you,  if  I'm  to  be  faithful  to 
myself." 

"You  won't  be  breaking  any  old  word!"  he  said.  "It 
was  never  an  iron-clad  promise.  I  teased  you  till  you 
agreed  to  try  how  the  thing  would  work.  It's  been  my 
fault  all  through,  and  now  I'll  take  my  medicine.  Our  en 
gagement  was  never  insured  against  war  risks,  and  when  I 
get  back  my  senses  I'm  going  to  be  glad  you  saw  March 
before  it  was  too  late.  I — brought  you  two  together,  sort 
of  inadvertently,  as  you  might  say,  didn't  I?  But,  honest 
Injun,  Peggy,  I'd  do  the  thing  over  again,  knowing  all  I 
know.  I  only  wish — yes,  before  the  Lord  I  do  wish — that 
good  may  come  of  it  to  you  both." 

"You're  an  angel,  Tony,  a  real  angel!"  I  almost  sobbed. 
"But  you  needn't  think  that  anything  will  'come  of  it'  in 
the  way  you  mean,  because  it  won't.  I  don't  delude  my 
self.  I  don't  even  hope.  All  the  same,  I  must  be  true — to 
my  own  heart.  And  I  beg  of  you  to  forgive  me  because  I 
didn't  know  it  well  enough  before." 

"There  isn't  any  question  of  forgiveness,"  said  he,  with 
his  head  up,  and  his  nice  Billiken  face  very  pink.  "I  bless 
you — bless  you  for  all  you've  been  or  done  to  me.  And  I 
wouldn't  forget  or  undo  anything  if  I  could,  you  can  bet 
your  life  on  that.  I  think  I  could  bear  the  whole  business 
like  a  man,  if  I  could  stay  right  here  and  see  you  through. 
But — there's  mater  and  Milly  to  think  of — and  the  regi 
ment.  And — and — oh,  well,  life's  just  one  damn  thing 
after  another!" 

Mrs.  Dalziel  and  Milly  came  and  pleaded  with  me  after 
that,  and  tried  to  frighten  me  into  going  with  them;  but,  as 


SECRET  HISTORY  233 

Milly burst  out  desperately  at  last,  I  was  "as  hard  as  nails." 
Tony  had  told  them  nothing,  I  found,  about  the  failure  of 
our  experiment  or  the  identity  of  Monsieur  Mars.  I  well 
understood  why,  and  was  grateful — grateful  for  that  and 
for  many  things;  most  of  all  for  bringing  me  to  Belgium, 
and  neither  grudging  nor  regretting  what  he  had  done. 
So,  as  a  lover,  Tony  went  out  of  my  life;  but  as  a  friend, 
he  never  can  go. 

I  had  no  time  to  cry  or  feel  lonely,  or  tell  myself  what  a 
beast  I'd  been,  after  the  three  had  reluctantly  left  me  to 
my  fate;  for  when  I  went  back  on  duty  after  the  good-byes, 
it  was  to  find  that  I  had  been  sent  for  to  hasten  to  the  prin 
cipal  ward.  Monsieur  Mars  was  being  delirious  in  Eng 
lish,  and  the  doctors  and  nurses  understood  too  little  of 
the  language  to  know  whether  he  were  merely  babbling 
or  pouring  forth  important  information. 

There  Eagle  lay  in  his  narrow,  white  bed,  clean  and  pale, 
with  his  head  swathed  in  bandages,  a  very  different  man 
from  the  grimy,  bloodstained  vision  that  had  flashed  on  me 
a  few  hours  before.  The  merest  stranger  who  had  ever 
seen  Captain  March  would  have  deserved  no  credit  for 
recognizing  him  now. 

The  nurses  waited  eagerly  for  me  to  translate  his  mutter- 
ings;  but  he  only  mumbled  again  and  again,  "It's  all  over, 
all  over!" 

If  I  could  guess  at  a  sad  hidden  meaning  for  the  words,  it 
was  one  which  need  not  be  handed  on  to  others;  and  I 
proved  so  broken  a  reed  as  a  translator  that  I  expected  to 
receive  marching  orders,  right-about  face.  Strange  to  say, 
however,  though  his  eyes  were  half  closed  and  he  seemed  to 
see  nothing,  know  nothing  that  went  on  around  him,  after 


234  SECRET  HISTORY 

I  had  spoken  in  a  low  tone  to  his  nurse  Eagle  stopped 
muttering.  For  a  moment  he  appeared  to  listen,  and  then 
with  a  deep  sigh  as  if  of  relief  from  pain  or  some  heavy 
anxiety,  the  half-open  eyelids  closed.  The  slight  frown 
which  had  drawn  his  brows  together  slowly  faded  away. 
He  had  the  air  of  being  at  rest. 

"One  would  almost  fancy,"  said  the  head  nurse,  who  had 
been  watching  the  scene,  speaking  thoughtfully  when  she 
had  beckoned  me  away  from  the  bedside,  "that  this  brave 
monsieur  recognized  your  voice,  Mademoiselle." 

Then  I  took  heart  of  grace  and  did  what  I  had  told  Tony 
I  meant  to  do.  I  said  that  I  had  met  Monsieur  Mars  in 
England  and  America.  I  had  recognized  him  at  once 
when  the  Red  Cross  men  brought  him  into  the  hospital,  but 
I  had  said  nothing  of  this  at  the  time,  because  I  had  felt 
that  it  would  be  considered  unimportant. 

"On  the  contrary,  Mademoiselle,"  answered  that  ador 
able  woman,  "it  is  of  the  greatest  importance.  This  heroic 
monsieur  has  saved  us  from  death.  If  there  is  anything, 
little  or  big,  which  we  can  do  for  him  in  return,  how 
gladly  will  we  do  it !  Your  voice  has  soothed  him  in  his  un 
consciousness.  Who  knows  what  your  presence  may  do 
when  consciousness  comes  back?  Why,  it  would  be  like 
throwing  away  an  elixir  to  waste  you  after  this  in  the  ward 
above.  You  are  from  now  on  promoted  as  assistant  nurse 
to  our  hero." 

She  was  a  stout,  plain  person,  with  bulgy  eyes  and  a  pink 
end  to  her  nose,  but  I  saw  her  as  the  most  beautiful  woman 
the  world  has  ever  produced. 

I  took  up  my  new  duties  at  once,  trying  not  to  act  as  if 
the  moon  were  my  footstool.  All  the  rest  of  the  day  and 


SECRET  HISTORY  235 

far  into  the  night  Eagle  lay  as  if  asleep,  with  occasional  fits 
of  restlessness  which,  somehow,  I  could  always  soothe;  and 
this  state,  though  it  seemed  alarming  to  me,  was  approved 
by  the  doctor.  It  was  better,  he  said,  that  after  concussion 
the  brain  should  have  for  a  while  repose  in  unconsciousness. 
The  symptom  was  not  good  when  the  patient  talked  ration 
ally  too  soon.  But  if  monsieur  should  waken  and  show 
signs  of  wishing  to  ask  questions,  he  must  be  answered 
clearly  and  quietly,  if  possible  by  the  Demoiselle  Irlandaise 
who  would  best  be  able  to  understand  and  satisfy 
him. 

The  Demoiselle  Irlandaise  was  advised  by  the  matron  to 
take  her  repose  early  in  the  night,  in  order  to  be  ready  for 
such  an  emergency  as  monsieur  the  doctor  suggested.  But 
the  demoiselle  felt  no  need  of  repose.  Sleep  seemed  some 
strange  and  foreign  thing.  She  sat  through  the  night 
watching  the  hero  of  Liege;  and  though  guns  boomed  and 
were  answered,  and  the  nurses  occasionally  discussed  be 
neath  their  breath  what  would  happen  to  us  all  when  the 
Germans  came,  never  in  her  life  had  that  Demoiselle 
Irlandaise  felt  so  happy  and  so  useful. 

She  had  the  reward  of  her  vigil  toward  dawn,  four-and- 
twenty  hours  almost  to  the  minute  after  the  Zeppelin  and 
its  crew  had  been  brought  down.  Suddenly  Eagle  opened 
his  eyes  and  fixed  them  on  the  nurse.  At  first  he  stared  as 
if  dazed  by  what  he  saw;  then  came  a  flash  of  recognition 
which  changed  to  incredulity. 

"I'm — dreaming  you!  "  he  whispered  huskily. 

I  bent  over  him  with  an  invalid's  cup  of  liquid  food  pre 
pared  for  this  emergency,  kept  hot  in  a  vacuum  flask.  "No 
you're  not  dreaming  me,"  I  cheerfully  replied  as  I  made  him 


236  SECRET  HISTORY 

drink.  "It's  Peggy,  taking  care  of  you.  Now  go  to  sleep 
again.  I'll  still  be  here  when  you  wake  up  next  time." 

"But "  he  went  on,  staring  round  the  room;  "where 

am  I?  The  horse  kicked  me,  I  remember;  only  that  seems 
so  long  ago!  I  thought — a  lot  of  things  had  happened 
since  then.  I  hoped — but  I  suppose  it's  all  a  dream  about 
—about " 

"Being  in  Belgium?"  I  prompted  him,  seeing  his  sharp 
anxiety.  "That's  not  a  dream,  but  true.  You're  Mon 
sieur  Mars,  the  hero  of  Liege,  because  you  brought  down 
the  Zeppelin  and  the  men  who  came  to  drop  bombs  on  us. 
We're  all  grateful  to  you,  and  praying  that  you  may  get 
well  soon." 

"Thank  God  that  it  is  true!"  he  sighed.  "I  wanted  to 
do  something.  I'd  have  been  disappointed  to  wake  up  and 
find  I'd  only  dreamed  after  all — to  find  that  I  was  back 
in  London.  I  was  afraid  for  a  minute  it  was  the  day  of 
— but  it's  all  right  now.  How  is  it  that  you're  here?  It 
seems " 

"Oh,  I  just  happened  to  be  travelling  in  Belgium  with 
the  Dalziels  when  the  war  broke  out,  and  we  got  caught. 
They've  gone  now,  but  I  stayed.  The  nurses  let  me  help 
them  a  little.  I  do  the  best  I  can.  I  told  them  I'd  met  you 
at  home.  But  every  one  here  calls  you  'Monsieur  Mars.' 
They  know  no  other  name." 

"Don't  let  them  know  any  other.  Don't  let  any  one 
know." 

"I  won't.  You  needn't  worry!  Now,  will  you  sleep, 
please? — or  they  may  think  I'm  doing  you  more  harm 
than  good." 

"You  do  me  the  greatest  good.     I'll  sleep,  yes.    But  first 


SECRET  HISTORY  237 

— tell  me  one  thing  more ;  about  the  Golden  Eagle.  I  planed 
down  part  of  the  way,  but  the  motor'd  stopped  working. 
The  last  I  remember  is  when  I  began  to  fall." 

"The  Eagle's  safe,"  I  assured  him.  "Hardly  hurt  at  all; 
and  there's  a  Belgian  flying  man  in  Liege  to-day,  Simon 
Sorel,  who  knows  you.  His  mechanic  is  working  on  the 
Golden  Eagle.  She'll  be  ready  for  you  when  you're  ready 
for  her." 

"That  will  be  soon.  Good  man,  Sorel!"  he  said,  and 
closed  his  eyes.  "Little  Peggy!"  I  heard  him  muttering 
later.  But  three  minutes  afterward  he  had  dropped  into  a 
natural  sleep. 

"Magnifique!"  was  the  Belgian  doctor's  verdict  in  his 
next  round,  when  Eagle  had  waked  again,  and  had  been 
attended  by  a  nurse  wiser  and  more  experienced  than  I. 
There  was  little  that  I  was  allowed  to  do  for  him,  but  that 
little  was  a  joy  worth  being  born  for;  and  I  could  have  died 
of  happiness  to  see  how,  when  he  was  awake  and  fully  con 
scious,  his  eyes  followed  me  when  I  moved  about.  But  it 
was  better  to  live  than  to  die  just  then,  and  I  did  live  with 
all  my  might.  I  lived  in  every  nerve  and  vein  for  those 
two  days  while  "Monsieur  Mars"  was  my  patient.  After 
the  first  twenty-four  hours  he  insisted  that  he  was  well 
enough  to  be  changed  into  the  ward  above,  and  leave  his 
bed  on  the  ground  floor  to  some  one  more  seriously  injured. 
On  the  second  day  he  sat  up  in  a  reclining  chair,  and 
announced  that  twelve  hours  more  would  see  him  out  of 
hospital.  Doctors  and  nurses  protested  that  he  would 
throw  himself  back  into  a  fever,  and  the  consequences 
might  be  serious;  but  as  at  that  very  time  the  danger  of  the 
town  being  taken  was  imminent,  arguments  for  prudence 


238  SECRET  HISTORY 

lost  their  force.  Toward  evening  on  the  third  day  Eagle, 
with  his  head  and  one  hand  still  in  bandages,  was  limping 
about  the  field  where  the  Golden  Eagle  had  been  repaired; 
and  when  he  came  back  it  was  to  say  that  he  thought  he 
might  get  off  at  midnight  with  dispatches  for  the  king  in 
Brussels.  He  calmly  announced  this  intention  to  me  as  I 
handed  him  an  innocent  cup  of  broth,  better  suited  to  a 
confirmed  invalid  than  to  a  recovered  aeronaut.  But  he 
quietly  accepted  the  cup;  and  I  saw  by  the  look  in  his  eyes 
that  I  was  to  expect  the  first  real  talk  we  had  had  together. 

"What  about  your  going  with  me,  Peggy?"  he  asked,  as 
simply  as  if  he  were  proposing  a  short  pleasure  jaunt  in  a 
motor  car.  "You  know,  I  wouldn't  suggest  it  if  I  didn't 
think  it  honestly  the  safest  thing  for  you.  With  luck  we 
can  make  the  trip  in  less  than  an  hour,  by  air.  Heaven 
knows  how  long  it  would  take  you  by  earth;  and  there's  no 
one  here,  anyhow,  to  help  smuggle  you  away  if  I  go  and 
leave  you  behind.  I  can't  bear  to  do  it!  Besides,  from 
Brussels,  there's  a  good  chance  of  your  getting  out  with 
refugees,  if  you  don't  wait  too  long.  And  you  can  do  as 
much  good  work  in  London  as  in  Liege.  What  do  you 
say?" 

I  wished  that  it  might  take  us  many  hours  to  get  to 
Brussels  instead  of  less  than  one.  But  I  didn't  put  the  wish 
into  words.  I  said  only,  yes,  I  would  go;  and  many  thanks. 

" Good !     That's  settled  then,"  said  he. 

"I  must  tell  our  matron,"  I  hesitated.  "I  hope  she 
won't  think  me  a  coward!" 

Eagle  smiled  almost  as  he  used  to  smile  ages  ago  in 
London,  when  first  we  were  friends,  and  he  still  thought  of 
me  as  a  "  little  girl."  "  Few  people  would  call  it  a  cowardly 


SECRET  HISTORY  239 

act  for  a  young  woman  to  fly  out  of  a  beleaguered  town  in  a 
battered  aeroplane  with  a  battered  airman,  and  I  don't 
think  your  matron  will  be  one  of  them.  She'll  thank  you 
for  what  you've  done  here,  and  bid  you  God-speed.  But 
don't  go  yet  to  tell  her.  I  have  some  things  to  say  to  you. 
You'll  be  my  passenger  and  'observer'  when  I  start  to 
night,  but  we'll  have  no  chance  to  talk;  and  in  these  times 
we  must  face  the  fact  that  we  may  never  have  another 
chance  this  side  of  heaven." 

The  words  went  through  me  like  a  bayonet,  for  I  knew 
too  well  how  deadly  true  they  were.  I  didn't  try  to  con 
tradict  him,  or  talk  about  "hoping  for  the  best";  for 
prattle  of  that  sort  seemed  too  futile.  I  only  said,  "Let's 
take  this  chance,  then.  I've  plenty  of  time — hours  yet. 
Stretch  yourself  out  in  the  chaise  longue  and  rest  while  we 
talk.  I'll  sit  here  by  you  on  the  window  seat." 

No  one  was  very  ill  in  this  upper  ward,  which  was  kept 
for  convalescents.  Some  of  the  men  had  been  given 
cigarettes  to  smoke.  Some  were  having  their  supper.  It 
was  generally  known  that  Monsieur  Mars  and  the  Demoi 
selle  Irlandaise  had  been  friends  in  England;  and  the  news 
having  run  round  the  wards  that  Monsieur  Mars  had  prac 
tically  discharged  himself  as  a  patient,  we  were  allowed  to 
talk  in  peace.  Not  an  errand  was  found  for  me,  not  a  nurse 
looked — or  allowed  us  to  see  that  she  looked — our  way. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  remind  you  of  my  existence,  you 
know,  Peggy,  till  I  had  something  to  say  about  myself 
worth  saying,"  Eagle  began,  speaking  lightly,  yet  with  a 
nervousness  he  couldn't  quite  hide.  "I  told  you  that  in 
my  last  letter.  But  Providence  has  stage-managed  things 
differently." 


240  SECRET  HISTORY 

"Yes.  We  didn't  expect  to  act  together  in  a  continen 
tal  theatre,  did  we?"  I  was  deliberately  flippant.  "But 
I'm  glad  to  be  in  this  great  play  with  you,  even  in  one 
scene,  and  such  a  little  part!" 

"Maybe  the  part  seems  little  to  you.  It  doesn't  to 
me !  You've  helped  me  to  get  well  twice  as  soon  as  I  should 
have  done  among  strangers.  Heavens!  But  I  was  glad 
to  see  your  little  face !  I'd  have  told  you  that  first  morn 
ing  when  I  waked  up  what  I'm  going  to  tell  you  now,  if 
you  had  let  me  then.  Things  were  rather  mixed  in  my 
brain.  I  thought  I  was  in  London,  and  you'd  found  me 
at  a  sort  of  nursing  home  I  retired  into  for  a  couple  of 
days  to  get  patched  up,  after  that — er — that  little  accident 
I  had.  I  suppose  you  heard  something  of  it  at  the  time, 
though  I  don't  think  you  were  on  the  spot  to  see." 

"Tony  told  me  you  were  in  church,  and  that  it  was  you 
who  stopped  the  horses  when  they  started  to  run  away," 
I  said,  without  beating  round  the  bush,  for  I  thought  he 
was  bidding  for  my  frankness  on  this  sore  subject. 

"I  hoped  I  might  have  passed  unrecognized;  but  I  feared 
that  was  too  much  to  expect.  I  was  tempted  to  break  my 
resolution  and  write  to  you  after  all,  explaining  why  I 
went  to  Lady  Diana's  wedding.  But  I  stuck  it  out  be 
cause — well,  because  it  was  a  resolution.  Silly  maybe! 
all  the  same,  I  had  it  a  good  deal  at  heart  to  find  a  new 
place  for  myself  in  the  world  before  I  made  a  sign  to  any 
of  my  friends,  even  loyal  Peggy.  Besides,  I  had  a  safe 
sort  of  feeling  you  wouldn't  misjudge  me." 

"I'm  glad  you  felt  that,"  I  said.  "Almost  glad  enough 
to  be  glad  you  didn't  write.  Though — I  should  have  liked 
to  hear." 


SECRET  HISTORY  241 

"Well,  I  thought  of  you  a  lot,  if  I  didn't  write.  And 
I  couldn't  help  looking  at  you  in  church  that  day.  I 
sent  you  wireless  messages  with  my  eyes  once  or  twice, 
although  I  knew  it  would  be  best  if  you  didn't  get  any  of 
them." 

"I  believe  I  did  get  them.  I  seemed  to  know  that  some 
one  was  calling  me." 

"It  wasn't  a  S.  O.  S.  call!"  Eagle  smiled.  "I  found- 
well,  I  found  that  I  wasn't  in  distress,  or  need  of  help. 
That's  precisely  why  I  went  to  St.  George's,  Peggy.  I 
wanted  to  test  myself.  Did  you  think  the  reason  might 
be  that?" 

"No!  I  thought  of  a  dozen  things  it  might  be,  but 
never  that  one!" 

"It  was  the  only  motive  that  could  have  taken  me  there. 
I  felt  it  gave  me  a  right  to  go,  even  though — if  people  who 
knew  how  things  had  been  saw  me,  they  might — well, 
they  might  think  me  guilty  of  very  bad  taste.  But  I 
didn't  mean  to  be  seen.  I  wasn't  asked  to  show  a  card. 
I  walked  in  early  and  chose  a  place  at  the  back  of  the 
church.  I  trusted  to  the  crowd  to  hide  me,  and  it  did. 
Dalziel  may  have  caught  a  glimpse  of  me  between  women's 
hats,  but  he  couldn't  have  been  sure  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
that  affair  afterward.  That  was  bad  luck,  in  a  way,  al 
though  I  was  glad,  if  the  accident  had  to  happen,  that  I 
could  be  of  use.  However,  it  didn't  affect  the  question 
of  my  being  in  church.  And  I  must  tell  you  about  that. 
I  didn't  go  to  England  for  the  purpose  of  making  the  ex 
periment  with  myself.  It  was  another  reason  which  took 
me  there.  But  being  in  England,  I — tried  it — tried  it 
with  success." 


SECRET  HISTORY 

"You  mean  me  to  understand  that — you  didn't  care?9* 

"Not  exactly  that!  I'm  not  made  of  iron  or  marble. 
I  didn't  sit  there  in  church  without  a  qualm.  But  the 
feelings  I  had  were  not  those  I'd  thought  I  must  defend  my 
self  against.  What  I  felt  was — was  no  more  and  no  less 
than  a  rage  of  hatred  against  that  damned — forgive  me, 
Peggy! — against  that " 

"Damned  villain,  Sidney  Vandyke,"  I  fiercely  finished 
the  sentence  as  he  had  meant  to  end  it. 

"I  can't  pretend  that  that  word  wasn't  the  only  one  to 
express  my  feelings  for  him  on  his  wedding  day,"  Eagle 
admitted.  "Not  because  he'd  taken  Diana  from  me, 
though.  That's  the  strange  part!  I  found  it  out  w^hile 
she  was  being  married  to  Vandyke,  and  it  was  the  thing 
I'd  wanted  to  find  out.  In  the  relief,  I  ought  to  have  for 
given  him  everything.  But  I  didn't  forgive.  The  ruin 
he'd  wrought  on  my  career  overtopped  everything  else 
in  my  mind  even  at  that  minute.  If  some  great  power 
could  have  put  me  in  Vandyke's  place  at  the  altar,  and 
given  Diana  to  me  instead  of  to  him,  I  would  not  have 
taken  her — not  even  with  her  love.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  what  she  would  call  her  love  wasn't  worth  the 
name  of  love,  after — what  had  passed.  It  was  only  the 
memory  of  all  I'd  felt  for  her  which  hurt  just  then,  so  far 
as  she  was  concerned.  But  for  him — God,  Peggy!  to  see 
him  at  the  height  of  his  hopes  and  ambitions  made  me 
mad  to  choke  his  life  out!  It  does  me  good  to  confess  this 
to  you  now,  for  you're  the  only  one  on  earth  to  whom  I'd 
speak." 

"Yet,  when  you  went  out  of  church,  you  saved  him  from 
danger  of  death!"  I  said  thoughtfully. 


SECRET  HISTORY  243 

"That's  just  one  of  life's  little  ironies,  isn't  it?"  Eagle 
laughed  a  low  and  bitter  laugh.  "  It  occurred  to  me  after 
ward  that  I'd  spoilt  a  good  melodramatic  plot.  Hero 
secretly  goes  to  church  to  see  the  woman  who  jilted  him 
marry  the  villain  to  whom  he  owes  his  ruin.  Villain  is 
killed  before  his  eyes  on  the  way  to  the  wedding  reception. 
Big  climax!" 

"I  think  it  was  more  dramatic,"  said  I,  "for  the  hero 
to  save  the  villain's  life." 

"Too  conventional.  Obvious  sort  of  thing!"  sneered 
Eagle.  "But  I  am  conventional  and  obvious,  I  suppose. 
I  did  what  I  did  simply  because  I  couldn't  help  it,  and  I'd 
probably  do  it  all  over  again.  I'd  have  regretted  it  after 
ward,  perhaps,  if  Di — if  Lady  Diana  hadn't  been  in  dan 
ger,  too.  I  bear  her  no  grudge." 

"You're  very  noble,"  I  said. 

"It's  not  nobility.  It's  more  like  callousness.  I  freed 
myself  from  Lady  Diana  on  her  wedding  day,  or  found 
that  I  was  free.  But  if  you  could  see  into  my  soul  when 
I  think  of  Vandyke,  you  wouldn't  call  me  'noble.'  I 
honestly  pray  for  the  day  when  I  can  remember  him 
with  indifference,  and  when  I  can  say  of  what  he  did  to 
me  that  good  is  born  of  evil.  That's  what  I'm  work 
ing  for.  But  the  time  hasn't  come  yet.  Maybe  it  will 
if  I  can  manage  to  make  myself  of  real  use  in  this  war. 
I've  done  nothing  yet  except  a  little  scouting." 

"Liege  thinks  differently,  and  so  will  all  the  world  when 
it  knows." 

"I'm  not  working  to  reinstate  myself  in  the  world's 
eyes,  but  in  my  own — and  most  of  all  to  help  Belgium. 
There  are  things  one  does  just  for  the  thing  itself.  I  have 


244  SECRET  HISTORY 

a  fellow-feeling  with  a  country  suffering  unjustly.  After 
what  I've  gone  through  myself,  I  seem  to  owe  her  alle 
giance,  as  to  a  friend  who  understands.  The  moment 
this  war  cloud  began  to  gather,  I  thought  it  would  burst 
over  Belgium,  and  I  crossed  the  frontier  from  France  with 
the  Eagle,  to  offer  my  services.  I'm  glad  now  I  failed  in 
the  hope  that  brought  me  over  from  America  to  England. 
I  wanted  to  join  Shackleton's  Polar  expedition,  but  he 
had  no  need  of  me." 

"So  that  was  why  you  came  to  England?" 

"Yes.  I  told  you  it  wasn't  for  the  sole  purpose  of  test 
ing  my  feelings  at  St.  George's  Church.  Being  in  Lon 
don " 

"I  understand.  But,  oh,  Eagle!  To  think  you  would 
have  gone  away  for  years  without  bidding  me  good-bye ! " 

"You  don't  quite  understand  yet  or  you  wouldn't  say 
that."  His  eyes  were  wistful.  "  I  was  disgraced — put  be 
yond  the  pale,  down  and  out,  unless  I  could  work  my  way  up 
again  out  of  the  mud.  Mentally,  I  was  a  sick  man.  Now 
I  see  clearer.  I'm  on  my  way  to  get  well  in  spite  of  scars. 
Life  or  death  will  cure  me  soon.  It  doesn't  much  matter 
which!" 

It  mattered  to  me — mattered  so  much  that  I  could  not 
speak. 


A  few  hours  later  I  had  said  good-bye  to  all  my  friends 
at  the  Liege  hospital.  Again  I  was  a  passenger  of  the 
Golden  Eagle,  flying  through  darkness  as  once  I  had  flown 
through  sunshine.  Hidden  by  the  night,  we  winged  our 
way  to  Brussels  safely  and  surely,  and  landed  outside  the 


SECRET  HISTORY  245 

town  after  forty  minutes  in  the  air — forty  minutes  which 
seemed  to  me  worth  as  many  years. 

We  came  down  in  a  farm  field,  safely  but  not  silently, 
and  waked  the  farmer,  and  his  three  sons  not  yet  of  soldier 
age.  They  ran  out  with  rules  prepared  for  any  emergency, 
but  a  few  words  of  explanation  warmed  their  hearts  to 
welcome  us. 

I  with  my  little  bundle — my  only  luggage — was  taken 
to  the  wife  and  mother,  who  exclaimed  over  me  as  if  I 
had  dropped  from  another  planet,  and  gave  me  a  bed  for 
the  rest  of  the  night.  One  of  the  boys  offered  to  guard  the 
monoplane  while  Eagle  went  off  on  the  bicycle  of  the  other 
into  town  with  dispatches  from  General  Leman  to  the 
king. 

In  the  morning  "Monsieur  Mars"  came  back  with  the 
news  that  a  party  of  English  ladies  were  starting  for  home 
in  the  care  of  a  clergyman,  and  that  he  had  asked  if  I 
might  go  with  them.  They  had  consented  to  take  me,  and 
I  must  be  ready  in  twenty  minutes.  An  automobile  be 
longing  to  an  officer  would  call  for  me  at  the  farm.  It 
came  promptly,  and  in  it  Eagle  and  I  had  our  last  minutes 
alone  together.  We  talked  cheerfully;  but  I  knew  as  well 
as  he  knew  that  the  chances  were  ten  to  one  against  our 
ever  meeting  again  on  earth. 


CHAPTER  XX 

I  COULD  not  bear  to  go  away  to  safety  in  England 
while  Eagle  stayed  behind,  daily  risking  his  life. 
But  he  would  not  listen  to  my  faltering  hints  that 
I  should  take  up  Red  Cross  work  again  in  Brussels.  "If 
you  want  to  give  me  peace  of  mind,  go,"  he  said.  So  I 
argued  no  more,  and  smiled  my  best  smile  as  we  clasped 
hands  for  the  last  time.  That  was  in  the  thronged  railway 
station,  where  Eagle  came  to  see  me  off  and  help  our  pilot 
parson  steer  his  charges  through  the  crowd.  I  was  glad 
then  that  we  had  said  our  real  good-bye  alone. 

It  took  us  two  days  to  get  out  of  Belgium  at  that  busy 
time  of  mobilization.  We  changed  trains  so  often  that 
we  lost  count,  and  frequently  waited  for  hours  at  way 
side  places  in  pouring  rain  or  broiling  sun.  We  hadn't 
much  to  eat,  but  most  of  what  we  had  we  gave  to  refugees 
worse  off  than  ourselves,  or  to  tired,  hungry  soldiers.  It 
was  a  hard,  almost  a  terrible  journey;  but  it  gave  me  two 
friends,  and  carried  me  one  stage  farther  on  the  strange 
road  along  which  Fate  was  leading  me  blindfold. 

The  two  friends  were  old  maiden  ladies,  the  sort  of  old 
maiden  ladies  Father  and  Di  would  have  avoided  like  a 
pestilence  if  they  had  met  them  travelling  on  the  Continent. 
They  were  twin  sisters,  exactly  alike  in  figure  and  face. 
Their  name  was  Splatchley;  their  looks  were  as  repellent  as 
their  name;  and  their  natures  were  angelic.  They  were  tall 

246 


SECRET  HISTORY  247 

and  thin  and  sprawling,  with  corrugated  iron  foreheads,  and 
grizzled  hair  which  they  crimped  over  it  in  little  bunches. 
They  had  wistful,  wondering  brown  eyes,  like  dogs'  eyes 
(if  you  can  imagine  dogs  wearing  pince-nez!),  the  sort  of 
noses  manufactured  by  the  gross  to  fit  any  face,  and  large 
stick-out  teeth,  which  made  you  feel  sure  that  no  man 
would  ever  have  kissed  the  poor  ladies  at  any  price.  Their 
clothes  and  hats  and  shoes  resembled  French  caricatures  of 
British  tourists,  and  they  had  a  habit  of  talking  together  in 
a  way  to  rasp  the  nerves.  But  to  me  they  were  adorable. 
All  their  lives  they  had  lived  in  a  country  village,  fussing 
happily  over  church  work;  but  an  uncle,  who  had  made  jam 
and  lots  of  money,  died,  leaving  everything  to  his  nieces. 
Part  of  that  "everything"  was  a  large  house  in  Fitzjohn's 
Avenue,  Hampstead,  in  which,  by  the  uncle's  will,  the 
Miss  Splatchleys  were  obliged  to  live  for  nine  months  of 
the  year.  They  had  done  their  duty  by  it  for  the  first  nine 
months,  and  had  then,  with  great  excitement  and  some 
trepidation,  started  with  a  maid  as  old  as  themselves  for 
their  first  trip  abroad.  They  had  just  conscientiously 
worked,  by  the  aid  of  Baedeker,  from  France  into  Belgium 
when  the  war  broke  out;  and  the  heart-rending  sights  they 
saw  among  refugees  inspired  them  with  a  brilliant  and 
benevolent  scheme.  It  occurred  to  them  that  their  big 
house  could  be  turned  into  a  home  for  Belgian  refugees,  and 
they  resolved  to  offer  a  thousand  pounds  toward  the  ex 
pense  of  bringing  penniless  people  over  to  England.  They 
could  have  their  largest  bedrooms  altered  into  beehives  of 
cubicles  for  single  women,  and  stick  little  families  of 
mothers  and  children  into  the  smaller  rooms. 

"Parkins  will  help,"  they  said,  as  we  whiled  away  dreary 


248  SECRET  HISTORY 

hours  of  waiting  in  discussing  over  and  over  again  their 
plans.  And  so  saying  they  smiled  square- toothed,  affec 
tionate  smiles  at  the  old  woman  who  had  been  in  their  ser 
vice  since  they  were  all  three  young  together. 

"  But  we  must  have  at  least  a  couple  of  nurses  to  help  the 
poor,  distracted  mothers  with  the  children,  and,  of  course, 
there  must  be  a  second  cook  and  another  housemaid  to 
make  things  comfortable,"  they  went  on.  "We  must  try 
and  think  of  some  nice  young  girl,  too,  among  our  friends, 
who  would  give  up  her  time  to  work  with  us.  We're  too 
old  to  make  a  success  alone." 

Then  they  ran  over  a  list  of  the  girls  they  knew,  in  town 
and  country,  but  were  able  to  suggest  no  one  whom  they 
both — Jane  and  Emma — could  agree  upon  as  suitable. 
While  these  two  angels  were  busily  racking  their  brains,  I 
sat  with  a  great  idea  developing  in  mine.  I  suppose  I  must 
have  looked  intelligent  and  eager  while  this  was  happening, 
for  Miss  Jane  was  moved  to  inquire  if,  by  chance,  I  knew  of 
anybody  who  would  do?  "A  girl  who  is  kind,  and  willing, 
and  bright  and  strong,  and  rich  enough  to  give  up  all  her 
time  for  nothing,"  explained  the  dear  old  lady.  "It's  a 
very  difficult  combination,  I  know.  And,  anyhow,  your 
friends  wouldn't  care  to  bother  perhaps  with  such  a  middle- 
class  institution  as  ours  will  be.  There'll  be  hundreds  of 
charities  organized  by  princesses  and  duchesses,  smart 
affairs  that  will  do  good  on  a  grander  scale  than  we  can,  and 
maybe  get  a  little  fun  out  of  it,  too.  But  you  did  look  as  if 
you  had  something  on  your  mind  to  help  us  out  with;  so 
you  must  excuse  me  if  I  asked." 

"I  know  a  girl  who  would  like  to  help  you,"  I  said,  "if 
you'd  have  her.  She's  willing  and  strong,  though  not  at  all 


SECRET  HISTORY  249 

kind,  and  perhaps  not  so  very  bright.  She  isn't  rich, 
either,  but  poor  as  the  churchiest  mouse!  Still,  she'll 
gladly  give  up  all  her  time  if  she  may  stay  with  you,  be 
cause  she  has  no  home  that  she  can  properly  call  a  home." 

"We  should  want  her  to  stay  with  us,  of  course!"  they 
protested,  both  together,  as  usual.  "But,  if  she  isn't 
kind " 

"Perhaps  she  could  learn  to  be  kind!  She  would  try 
hard,"  I  said  meekly.  "Her  name  is  Peggy  O'Malley." 

They  thought  I  was  joking  at  first;  and  when  I'd  made 
them  understand  that  I  was  in  dead  earnest,  they  shook 
their  heads  and  looked  dubious,  fearing  it  "wouldn't 
work." 

"You  see,  my  dear,"  Miss  Emma  explained,  volubly 
assisted  by  Miss  Jane,  "you  are  the  only  earl's  daughter,  or 
indeed  any  member  of  the  aristocracy — higher  than  a 
knight's  family — we  have  ever  met  socially — if  you  can 
speak  of  this  as  'socially' — being  actually  thrown  together,  in 
all  senses  of  the  word,  whenever  they're  in  too  great  a  hurry 
to  couple  our  train  nicely,  or  when  we  fall  out  in  a  heap  at 
some  wayside  place  like  this.  We  don't  flatter  ourselves 
that  you'd  be  likely  to  select  us  for  acquaintances  if  you 
were  able  to  choose  at  this  time;  and  you  mightn't  be  pleased 
with  our  ways  at  home.  We  have  kippers  for  breakfast 
sometimes,  and  always  cold  supper  Sunday  nights." 

I  assured  them  passionately  that  if  Providence  had  made 
them  both  expressly  for  my  taste,  we  couldn't  be  better 
suited  to  each  other.  As  for  being  an  "earl's  daughter," 
said  I,  there  was  nothing  in  that  except  extra  charges  from 
dressmakers  and  hotels,  and  having  things  you  had  never 
done  attributed  to  you  in  paragraphs  of  penny  weeklies. 


£50  SECRET  HISTORY 

Then  I  drew  on  all  my  funds  of  pathos,  describing  myself  as 
unwanted  and  unloved.  This  did  the  trick!  The  twin 
angels  took  me  to  their  hearts  and  promised  me  a  place  in 
their  home  and  scheme.  By  the  time  we  got  on  board  the 
boat  they  had  dropped  my  handle  and  were  calling  me 
"Peggy  dear." 

In  London  a  crowd  had  come  to  the  station  expressly  to 
welcome  and  cheer  us  returning  wanderers.  And  London 
was  not  the  same  London  we  had  left  a  few  wreeks  ago.  It 
was  a  city  under  a  spell,  a  London  of  some  strange  dream, 
all  the  stranger  because  the  only  change  was  in  the  people. 
Later,  it  changed  again,  becoming  almost  gay  and  lively 
in  outer  appearance,  but  at  this  time  the  balance  was  not 
adjusted. 

Soldiers  and  recruits  were  marching  through  the  streets, 
which  but  for  them  and  those  who  dazedly  watched  them 
were  almost  empty.  Instead  of  the  mad  herds  of  motor 
omnibuses,  which  had  gone  charging  up  and  down  in  "old 
days,"  a  few  moved  sedately,  with  here  an  ancient  horse 
bus  unearthed  from  oblivion.  Of  the  lively  streams  of 
taxis,  blue  and  green  and  black  and  gray,  the  source  seemed 
suddenly  more  than  half  to  have  dried  up.  Some  melan 
choly  four-wheelers  and  hansoms  had  made  bold  to  steal 
out,  and  were  finding  customers.  Little  boys  were  playing 
soldiers  in  the  middle  of  Pall  Mall,  no  longer  a  maelstrom. 
There  was  no  din  of  traffic  to  drown  the  frog-like  music  of 
their  sixpenny  drums  and  penny  trumpets.  Looking  into 
the  doorways  of  the  biggest  shops  one  saw  nobody  but  the 
attendants,  waiting  to  serve  customers  who  were  not  there 
and  would  not  come.  Outside  the  little  shops  the  pro 
prietors  were  frankly  standing,  to  wonder  sadly  what  had 


SECRET  HISTORY  251 

happened  to  them  and  to  London,  and  what  worse  thing 
was  likely  to  happen  next?  They  talked  in  low  voices  to 
each  other,  trying  to  smile  or  read  the  latest  war  edition  of 
some  newspaper. 

Most  of  the  people  who  were  in  the  streets  seemed 
to  have  come  there  to  look  at  the  soldiers  or  to  read  the 
papers,  which  they  did  regardless  of  bumping  into  all  the 
others  who  were  doing  the  same  thing.  Nobody  appeared 
to  think  of  buying  anything,  though  the  shopkeepers  had 
already  pathetically  changed  the  aspect  of  their  windows  to 
suit  altered  circumstances.  Instead  of  displaying  lovely 
dresses,  they  showed  rolls  of  khaki  cloth,  or  linen,  cotton, 
or  flannel  for  shirts,  and  gray  army  blankets.  Shoemakers 
had  bundled  away  their  attractive  paste-buckled  slippers, 
and  put  forward  conspicuously  thick-soled  brown  boots  to 
which  they  drew  the  attention  of  officers  and  soldiers. 
Chemists  had  hung  printed  cards,  advising  the  public  to 
"Keep  up  Their  Strength  in  War  Time"  by  taking  So  and 
So's  Tonic  Wine.  But  no  one  cared.  No  one  bought. 
There  was  a  dazed  look  on  most  of  the  faces.  If  those  who 
read  newspapers  cannoned  into  each  other,  instead  of 
glaring  or  swearing  they  smiled  mildly,  wistfully,  and 
perhaps  fell  into  conversation  about  the  war.  One  felt 
able  to  guess  what  all  the  millions  in  London  and  even  in  all 
England  and  Europe  were  talking  about  and  thinking 
about  at  any  given  moment;  yet  it  was  strange  to  us  who 
had  come  from  the  hot  red  heart  of  the  war  to  see  no  other 
sign  of  it  except  this  dreamlike  silence  which  hid  the  pain 
of  parting  from  those  loved  best. 

Nobody  came  to  meet  me  at  the  station,  because,  not 
knowing  when  I  should  succeed  in  arriving,  I  had  not  tried 


SECRET  HISTORY 

to  wire;  nor  would  a  message  have  been  likely  to  reach  its 
destination  if  I  had.  The  Miss  Splatchleys  took  me  home 
with  them,  as  if  I  had  been  an  adopted  child;  and  it  was 
from  the  appropriate  address  of  "The  Haven"  that  I 
telegraphed  Father  and  Diana:  "Reached  London  safely 
with  friends  who  have  asked  me  to  visit  them.  Writing 
explanations." 

Miss  Jane  and  Miss  Emma  prophesied  that  "his  lord 
ship"  would  put  down  his  foot  on  our  plans,  but  they  did 
not  know  him.  I  did.  Having  received  my  promised  ex 
planations,  he  was  more  genial  on  paper  than  he  often  took 
the  trouble  to  be  for  "only  Peggy." 

He  wrote  from  Di's  new  house  in  Park  Lane,  a  letter 
eminently  fitted  to  be  read  aloud,  and  to  impress  with  his 
graciousness  the  middle  classes  personified  by  estimable  if 
vulgar  females  labelled  Splatchley.  He  had,  it  seemed, 
made  inquiries  about  these  ladies,  and  was  in  receipt  of 
quite  satisfactory  references.  I  had  his  permission  to  visit 
them  until  further  notice,  and  help  in  their  good  work, 
which  he  thoroughly  approved  in  these  early  trying  days 
when  everybody  was  organizing  something.  Also,  he  was 
prepared  to  make  me  a  small  weekly  allowance  for  personal 
expenses  and  charities.  He  enclosed  a  cheque  for  the  first 
week.  It  was  for  two  guineas. 

Kitty  added  a  postscript  with  a  good  many  italics.  She 
was  so  glad  that  I  was  safe  after  that  terrible  time  when  she 
and  dear  Ballyconal  had  been  so  worried  about  me,  and 
would  have  been  even  more  anxious  if  they  had  had  any 
time  to  think  of  themselves.  Of  course,  in  the  circum 
stances,  she  could  quite  understand  that  it  would  be  awk 
ward  for  me  to  accept  Major  Vandyke's  hospitality,  so 


SECRET  HISTORY  253 

perhaps  things  were  best  as  they  were,  especially  as  I 
would  be  working  for  the  good  cause.  But  I  must  come 
and  see  them.  Surely  I  could  do  that?  And  it  would 
make  talk  if  I  did  not.  She  was  sure  I  would  be  interested 
in  the  sewing  guild  which  Di  had  started.  Everybody  was 
starting  a  guild  of  some  sort,  but  this  was  a  very  special 
one,  consisting  of  the  most  topwave  swells.  Not  a  woman 
on  the  list  of  workers  whose  name  you  couldn't  find  in 
Burke  and  Debrett ! 

Diana  also  wrote,  not  at  all  hurt  that  I  hadn't  accepted 
her  invitation.  Indeed,  she  seemed  to  have  forgotten  the 
episode,  quite  taking  it  for  granted  that  I  was  disposed  of 
with  the  Miss  Splatchleys  for  some  time  to  come.  "Kitty 
and  I  will  motor  out  to  see  you  the  first  day  we  have  a 
chance,"  she  said,  "if  we  can  find  Fitzjohn's  Avenue.  I 
never  heard  of  it.  But  then,  one  doesn't  hear  of  streets  in 
Hampstead,  I  suppose,  except  in  war,  or  crises  like  that, 
when  we're  all  as  democratic  as  saints.  You  might  ask 
your  friends  for  a  subscription  to  buy  shirt  material  for 
us  to  make  up.  I  can  get  more  workers  than  I  need, 
but  very  little  money,  and  we  need  a  lot,  especially  as 
some  of  us  have  had  no  experience  in  sewing  and  we  do 
waste  rather  a  lot  of  material  getting  things  wrong  at  first ! 
Still,  we  are  persevering,  and  you  must  come  and  see  us  at 
work  cutting  out  and  putting  together  garments  for  the 
wounded  every  afternoon  in  my  drawing-room,  where  the 
decorations  are  all  finished  and  immensely  admired.  We 
have  tea,  and  I've  engaged  a  palmist,  who  tells  us  what  will 
happen  to  our  friends  at  the  front  and  how  the  war  will  end. 
She  encourages  us  and  keeps  us  up.  Later  we  hope  to  get 
convalescent  officers  to  tell  us  their  experiences  while  we 


254,  SECRET  HISTORY 

sew.  Could  you  do  any  knitting  for  us?  I  remember  you 
learnt  from  your  nurse  when  you  were  a  small  child.  I 
thought  it  so  irritating  of  you,  but  it  might  come  in  useful 
now,  if  you  remember  the  stitch.  Some  of  us  can  crochet, 
but  it  seems  that  won't  do  for  socks.  A  good  many  use 
worsted  of  a  pretty  colour  which  doesn't  clash  with  their 
frocks;  but  as  for  me,  I've  thrown  aside  all  vanity.  Don't 
forget  to  ask  the  Miss  Splatchleys  for  a  cheque,  as  Bally 
says  they're  rich;  and  I  do  hope  you  haven't  jilted  poor 
Tony.  He  has  gone,  as  of  course  you  have  heard,  and  the 
Dalziels  don't  know  anything — I  mean  about  you  and 

T I  see  them  every  day.     Milly  spoiled  two  shirts 

this  afternoon,  but  her  mother  bought  us  some  beautiful 
readymade  ones  instead,  with  tucked  fronts." 

Work  was  so  real  and  so  pressing  with  us  at  "The Haven" 
that  I  laughed  at  the  picture  of  Diana's  guild  with  its  list 
of  helpers  from  Debrett,  its  palmist,  and  its  tea.  Miss  Jane 
and  Miss  Emma,  however,  said  that  it  was  my  duty  to  go 
and  see  my  family,  as  I  was  younger  than  they  were,  and 
it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  they  could  get  to  me.  The 
desired  cheque  I  hadn't  meant  to  mention,  but  in  reading 
the  funny  part  of  the  letter  aloud  one  of  Di's  references 
to  it  fell  out  inadvertently,  and  the  generous  creatures 
caught  it  up.  They  were  prepared  to  spend  many  hun 
dreds  of  pounds  in  turning  "The  Haven"  into  a  refuge, 
and  in  supporting  the  homeless  Belgian  women  and  chil 
dren  to  whom  they  offered  hospitality,  but  they  couldn't 
allow  my  sister  to  ask  in  vain.  I  was  given  twenty 
guineas  for  the  guild  and  told  that  I  ought  to  take  the 
cheque  myself,  for  I  would  discover  that  "  it  was  the  busi 
est  people  who  could  always  find  time." 


SECRET  HISTORY  255 

We  were  busy  from  six-thirty  in  the  morning  till  ten- 
thirty  at  night,  with  indigestibly  short  intervals  snatched 
for  meals;  but,  as  the  two  angels  said,  there  was  always  time 
to  do  one  more  thing.  On  that  principle  I  contrived  to 
go  to  Diana's  on  one  of  her  "afternoons,"  armed  with  the 
Splatchley  cheque  and  my  own  knitting,  strongly  resolved 
not  to  drink  any  of  Sidney  Vandyke's  tea  or  eat  one  of 
his  horrid  eclairs. 

I  was  ushered  into  the  house  by  two  powdered  foot 
men  far  too  big  for  it.  It  is  a  small  house  for  Park  Lane, 
all  up  and  down  stairs;  but  the  drawing-room  is  of  good 
size;  and  when  a  bishop-like  butler  published  my  name  at 
the  door,  I  saw  that  the  room  was  full  of  women,  young, 
old,  and  middle-aged,  seated  at  sewing-machines,  or  stand 
ing  at  long  tables  cutting  out  strange-looking  shapes  from 
hideous  materials. 

There  were  some  quaint  sights  to  be  seen  at  "The  Ha 
ven,  "rooms  being  partitioned  off  into  cubicles;  others  being 
turned  into  dormitories,  nurseries,  or  refectories  for  the 
refugees,  who  had  already  begun  to  arrive,  before  things 
were  half  ready  to  receive  them.  But  Diana's  smart  new 
drawing-room  in  Park  Lane  presented  a  far  more  extraor 
dinary  study  in  contrasts  than  anything  the  middle-class 
"Haven"  could  show. 

Improbable  Louis-Seize  furniture  was  pushed  back 
against  white  and  gold  and  silk-panelled  walls.  Gilt-legged 
tables  and  chairs  were  piled  with  rolls  of  bleached  and 
unbleached  cotton,  feverishly  pink  flannelette,  and  scarlet 
flannel;  or  littered  with  cut-out  parts  of  garments,  some 
of  which  (judging  from  the  confusion  and  clamour  about 
them)  had  got  badly  mixed.  On  the  garland-embroidered 


256  SECRET  HISTORY 

curtains  of  primrose  yellow  silk  were  pinned  placards  an 
nouncing  patriotic  meetings  of  women  who  wished  to  assist 
or  form  recruiting  agencies;  or  appeals  from  the  Red  Cross 
Society  or  the  Prince  of  Wales'  Fund.  Rugs  had  been 
rolled  up,  and  the  polished  parquet  floor  was  strewn  with 
shirt  buttons,  reels  of  cotton,  and  torn  papers  of  pins. 
Scissors  hid  among  scraps  of  waste  material,  and  on  re 
quest  were  searched  for  by  very  young  girls  whose  ap 
parent  business  was  to  supply  the  sewing-machines 
with  cut-out  and  basted-up  garments,  to  fold  and  stack 
the  finished  things  according  to  kind,  and  to  knit 
wildly  at  intervals  on  immense  stockings  with  singularly 
long  feet  which  clearly  could  suit  no  one  but  Santa 
Claus. 

As,  according  to  my  stepmother,  all  the  ladies  of  the 
guild  were  "top-wave  swells,"  I'd  expected  to  find  the 
fair  brigade  of  volunteers  exquisitely  dressed  in  the  latest 
Paris  fashions  of  "before  the  war."  But  no!  They  had 
invented  a  still  later  fashion  of  their  own.  It  was  to  be 
frumpish.  The  smart  thing  for  the  women  of  Great 
Britain  was  to  have  their  hair  done  plainly,  with  an 
angelic  effect  of  putting  patriotism  before  vanity,  and 
having  no  time  to  spend  on  self.  No  money,  either,  to 
judge  from  their  frocks!  Where  they  had  raked  up  their 
old  clothes,  I  can't  imagine.  There  were  skirts  and  blouses 
in  that  transformed  drawing-room  in  which,  a  few  weeks 
ago,  their  wearers  would  not  have  gone  out  to  burn  down 
a  church  or  to  be  dragged  to  prison.  Still,  I  must  say  that 
most  of  the  wearers  contrived  to  look  very  distinguished, 
even  those  at  the  sewing-machines,  who  had  got  tousled 
as  children  do  over  unaccustomed  schoolroom  tasks.  No 


SECRET  HISTORY  257 

one  had  on  any  jewellery  except  Kitty,  Mrs.  Dalziel,  and 
Milly,  and  one  or  two  others  who  were  also  evidently 
Americans  not  required  to  sacrifice  everything  for  Great 
Britain's  sake.  They,  with  their  pretty  dresses,  their 
rings  and  earrings  and  strings  of  large,  glistening  pearls, 
were  like  gay  flowers  in  a  kitchen  garden. 

Kitty,  fat  and  fashionable,  and  Di,  slim  and  elaborately 
frumpish,  came  to  meet  me  with  pajama  legs  in  their 
hands.  They  didn't  trouble  to  take  off  their  thimbles,  and 
I  thought  they  seemed  far  from  being  ashamed  of  the  nee 
dle  pricks  on  their  fingers. 

A  few  of  the  girls  I  knew  already,  and  some  of  the  older 
women.  All  had  heard  from  Di  or  from  the  Dalziels  that 
I  had  been  doing  a  little  amateur  work  as  a  nurse  in  Bel 
gium,  but  no  one — not  even  Di  herself — expressed  curios 
ity  as  to  details.  They  had  so  much  to  think  of  that 
interested  them  more;  and  I  was  thankful  for  the  self- 
absorption  of  Kitty  and  Di  which  saved  me  from  awkward 
questions  as  to  how  I  had  contrived  to  get  out  of  Liege. 
It  was  simply  taken  for  granted  by  my  family  that,  ac 
cording  to  my  own  written  account,  I  had  made  the  jour 
ney  home  with  thoroughly  reputable  refugees.  I  felt  sure 
that  Tony  had  not  given  his  mother  and  sister  any  indis 
creet  information  about  "Monsieur  Mars."  Neither  did 
he  appear  to  have  told  them  that  our  engagement  was 
definitely  broken  off.  Their  unsuspecting  friendliness 
made  me  feel  guilty,  and  I  decided  that  I  ought  sooner 
or  later  to  let  them  know  the  truth. 

That  day  at  Di's,  however,  they  gave  me  no  chance  to 
speak,  even  if  I'd  had  strength  of  mind  to  snatch  it.  Tony 
was  safely  on  his  way  to  America,  travelling  in  the  steerage, 


258  SECRET  HISTORY 

having  given  up  his  cabin  to  as  many  ladies  as  it  could  hold. 
He  was  admiringly  mentioned,  and  then  dismissed  as  a 
subject  of  conversation  in  favour  of  others  more  exciting 
to  his  family  and  closer  at  hand.  Milly,  while  sewing  spas 
modically  on  a  weirdly  shaped  shirt  which  could  only  be  got 
on  or  off  by  a  weirdly  shaped  man,  talked  about  Stefan 
and  produced  a  letter  from  him,  which  she  cherished  in 
side  her  blouse.  He  had  been  wounded,  seriously  though 
not  dangerously,  in  Poland,  and  invalided  home.  It 
was  not  thought  that  he  would  be  able  to  do  any  more 
fighting,  and  so  when  he  was  strong  enough,  he  hoped  to 
try  and  reach  England  in  order  that  they  might  be  married 
at  once,  if  Milly  would  not  mind  taking  an  invalid  for  a 
husband.  Apparently  Milly  did  not  mind  in  what  condi 
tion  she  took  her  count  provided  she  was  sure  of  getting 
him.  She  was  looking  forward,  if  all  went  well,  to  becom 
ing  a  Russian  countess  within  a  few  weeks,  for  Stefan  ex 
pected  to  arrive  in  a  ship  from  Archangel  along  a  sea  route 
protected  by  the  British  navy.  She  had  so  little  fear  of 
anything  going  wrong  that  she  was  "encouraging  dress 
makers"  by  starting  her  trousseau,  and  had  begun  to 
study  the  Russian  language  as  a  surprise  for  her  fiance. 
Mrs.  Dalziel  talked  about  Stefan,  too,  and  how  she  would 
help  nurse  him  back  to  health  in  a  suite  at  the  Savoy,  when 
he  and  Milly  were  married.  Meanwhile,  mother  and 
daughter  were  giving  themselves  up  to  good  works,  it 
seemed,  whenever  they  had  a  minute  to  spare  from  their 
own  affairs.  Milly  went  three  times  a  week  to  the  Russian 
Embassy  to  sew  for  the  Russians,  and  came  twice  a  week 
to  Diana's  guild.  Mrs.  Dalziel  had  joined  two  committees 
got  up  by  stranded  Americans  at  the  Savoy:  one  to  supply 


SECRET  HISTORY  259 

money  for  moneyless  millionaires,  and  the  other  to  find 
clothes  for  clotheless  millionairesses. 

Whenever  one  of  Diana's  workers  collapsed  with  fatigue, 
she  was  given  tea  or  something  to  eat,  and  allowed  an 
interval's  repose  in  Di's  boudoir,  which  had  become  the 
temporary  consulting-room  of  Madame  Mesmerre.  The 
tame  clairvoyant  was  expressly  forbidden  to  foretell  any 
thing  depressing;  if  she  could  not  get  visions  of  husbands, 
sons,  and  lovers  coming  safely  home,  it  was  distinctly 
understood  with  Diana  (who  paid  by  the  afternoon) 
that  she  mustn't  have  any  visions  at  all.  This  arrange 
ment,  however,  was  a  family  secret,  which  Kitty  be 
trayed  to  me  in  confidence.  Every  one  said  that 
Madame  Mesmerre  was  wonderful,  but  I  didn't  consult 
her. 

I  don't  understand  much  about  sewing  or  other  really 
useful  things  of  that  sort,  but  I've  picked  up  enough 
(thanks  to  helping  my  poor  friends  at  Ballyconal)  to 
know  that  men's  shirts  ought  to  have  armholes  bigger 
than  those  for  little  boys,  and  that  they  shouldn't  be  as 
short  as  bibs,  or  as  long  as  surplices.  Even  this  small 
amount  of  knowledge  made  me  unexpectedly  useful  at 
the  guild,  where  every  member  seemed  to  have  her  own 
original  conception  of  what  shape  a  shirt  ought  to  be,  and 
what  it  should  be  made  of.  Even  my  brief  apprentice 
ship  with  the  Miss  Splatchleys,  to  whom  most  kinds  of 
domestic  work  was  as  easy  as  breathing,  made  these  fashion 
able  women's  desperate  efforts  at  doing  good  seem  pathetic. 
I  agreed  to  return  whenever  I  could,  but  no  one  would 
promise  to  come  and  see  the  "Haven  Home  for  Belgian 
Refugees."  They  were  all  too  busy  working,  by  day;  and 


260  SECRET  HISTORY 

at  night  it  was  a  duty  to  go  to  a  theatre  or  music  hall, 
because  the  performance  was  given  for  the  benefit  of  some 
fund,  or  else  somebody  sang  a  patriotic  song  to  encourage 
recruiting. 

We  grew  busier  and  busier  at  "The  Haven"  as  the  days 
went  by.  Refugees  poured  in.  There  was  hardly  time 
to  be  sad  or  anxious  in  the  daytime;  but  at  night  always, 
always,  my  brain  ceased  to  feel  like  a  brain,  and  became 
a  battlefield,  as  before  in  Belgium.  The  horror  and  an 
guish  of  war  poured  into  my  soul  as  water  pours  into 
a  leaking  ship.  The  most  dreadful  thoughts  could  be 
warded  off  in  the  busy  hours  of  the  day;  but  in  the  night 
stillness  they  found  me  without  defence,  and  I  surren 
dered. 

Those  were  the  hours  when  it  seemed  to  me  impossible 
that  any  of  the  men  I  knew,  and  above  all,  Eagle  March, 
could  ever  escape  from  the  slaughter  alive.  The  Miss 
Splatchleys  said  that  I  looked  pale  and  thin,  with  blue 
shadows  under  my  eyes,  and  begged  me  not  to  work  so 
hard.  But  I  could  have  worked  twice  as  hard  without 
realizing  that  I  was  tired,  if  some  one  who  knew  the  future, 
as  no  crystal-gazer  can  know  it,  had  told  me  that  Eagle 
would  come  out  of  the  war  unharmed. 

Even  when  there  was  scarcely  time  for  a  decent  meal, 
there  was  time  to  read  the  war  news.  All  night  long  I 
existed  for  the  moment  in  the  morning  when  the  two  papers 
which  the  Miss  Splatchleys  took  in  should  arrive,  and  I 
could  bolt  the  big  headlines  and  secretly  search  for  the 
name  of  "Monsieur  Mars."  Then,  whether  I  found  it 
or  not,  the  same  suspense  had  to  be  lived  through  till 
the  afternoon,  when  the  evening  editions  came  out; 


SECRET  HISTORY  261 

and  after  that  again  until  the  hour  for  the  "Last  War 
Extra." 

Often  the  name  of  Mars  started  up  to  my  eyes  from  the 
closely  printed  columns  and  set  my  heart  beating  and  my 
blood  flying  to  my  head.  No  one  seemed  to  have  identi 
fied  him  as  Captain  March,  not  even  the  British  or  Ameri 
can  war  correspondents  who  occasionally  reported  his 
exploits.  Or  if  they  did,  they  respected  his  wish  to  keep 
it  secret. 

"Mars,  the  Belgian  Air  Scout,"  he  was  generally  called, 
for  few  journalists  appeared  to  know  that  he  was  a  for 
eigner  who  had  offered  his  services  to  the  brave  little  coun 
try.  Wonderful,  almost  miraculous,  feats  were  attributed 
to  him.  Sometimes  they  were  denied;  but  usually  they 
proved  to  be  true. 

One  morning  I  read  that  he  had  made  a  daring  flight  of 
two  hundred  miles  over  German  territory,  had  dropped 
bombs  on  an  ammunition  train,  had  been  fired  on,  and 
returned  to  his  base  "somewhere  in  Flanders"  with  the 
wings  of  his  machine  riddled  by  ninety-eight  bullets. 
Again  he  and  Sorel  (who  had  been  at  Liege  when  we  were 
there)  went  reconnoitring  over  the  great  German  fortress 
of  Metz,  hoping  to  destroy  the  Zeppelin  sheds.  Quickly 
they  were  detected,  although  nearly  three  thousand  feet 
above  the  forts.  Up  came  shots  from  high-angle  guns, 
spattering  around  them  like  spray  from  a  fountain;  but 
they  persevered,  making  for  the  direction  of  the  drill 
ground.  Then  suddenly  Mars'  motor  ceased  to  work.  It 
seemed  that  all  was  over  for  him,  and  the  task  left  for  Sorel 
to  finish  alone.  But  Mars,  said  the  papers,  resolved  not  to 
give  his  life  away  for  nothing.  Sweeping  down  in  a  bold 


SECRET  HISTORY 

volplane  he  launched  his  bomb,  and  had  abandoned  him 
self  for  lost  when  suddenly  the  motor  started  again;  where 
upon  he  darted  off  defiantly,  following  Simon  Sorel,  who 
had  thrown  his  bomb  also,  and  escaped. 

If  this  had  been  all,  I  might  have  borne  it  somehow  in  my 
pride  of  Eagle.  But  there  was  always  something  more.  I 
read  of  his  monoplane  being  struck  by  a  fragment  of  burst 
ing  shell  over  the  enemy's  lines,  and  his  volplaning  with  a 
disabled  engine,  to  drop  into  safety  and  a  French  stone 
quarry  with  important  information  to  give  concerning  the 
disposition  of  German  forces.  When  Paris  was  threatened 
and  almost  despairing,  Mars  flew  over  the  sad  city  letting 
fall  leaflets  with  the  inspiring  message,  "Prenez  courage, 
tout  va  bien."  Over  Brussels  also  he  manoeuvred,  drop 
ping  his  leaflets,  and  while  angry  German  soldiers  took  aim 
at  him  and  his  monoplane  he  "looped  the  loop"  far  above 
their  noses.  His  cool  remark  after  this  exploit  was  said  to 
have  been : ' '  These  Germans  do  shoot  badly ! ' '  He  had  more 
than  one  duel  in  the  air  with  hostile  war  planes,  having 
vowed  with  the  Belgian  airmen  to  ram  all  enemy  aircraft 
whenever  possible.  There  was  a  fearsome  account  to  read, 
one  morning,  of  his  bringing  down  an  aeroplane  which  had 
dropped  bombs  on  the  heads  of  French  troops,  helping  out 
the  wounded  aviator  and  military  observer,  and  then 
setting  fire  to  their  machine.  In  this  adventure  the  Golden 
Eagle  was  injured,  and  another  monoplane  was  lent  the  air 
man  while  his  own  was  being  put  to  rights.  The  "  Elusive 
Mars,"  newspapers  began  to  name  him,  because  in  the  face 
of  almost  certain  destruction  he  invariably  escaped  in  the 
nick  of  time  and  within  an  inch  of  his  life.  At  last,  how 
ever,  one  October  day  of  good  news  for  the  Allies,  there 


SECRET  HISTORY  263 

was  bad  news  for  me.     They  had  put  it  in  big  headlines  on 
the  most  important  page : 

"Mars,  the  Belgian  Airman,  Caught  at  Last.  While 
Reconnoitring  His  Machine  is  Disabled,  and  Falls  in 
Enemy's  Lines.  He  is  Believed  to  be  Wounded,  and  is 
Certainly  a  Prisoner." 

I  had  no  heart  to  rejoice  in  the  tidings  which  made 
the  rest  of  my  world  happy  that  day.  And  for  many 
days  afterward — days  each  one  of  which  seemed  a  lifetime 
of  suspense — there  was  no  other  news  of  Eagle  March.  I 
felt  as  if  the  future  were  a  very  long,  dim  corridor,  in 
whose  chill  twilight  I  groped,  my  eyes  straining  toward  the 
distance. 

So  a  month  dragged  itself  away,  and  then  came  news  at 
last. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

ESCAPE  OF  THE  GALLANT  MARS,"  were  the 
words  that  seized  my  eyes  as  I  opened  the  front 
door  of  "The  Haven"  to  snatch  the  morning 
papers.  Rain  was  pouring  down,  but  I  halted  in  the  porch 
to  read,  oblivious  of  the  rivulet  that  streamed  over  my  hair. 
"Mars,  the  elusive"  had  been  true  to  his  name  once  more. 
It  was  an  almost  miraculous  story,  or  would  have  seemed 
so  in  less  stirring  times  than  these,  which  are  teaching  us 
that  brave  men  can  do  anything  they  set  their  minds  to  do. 
Mars,  with  a  few  English  prisoners,  and  some  Russians 
from  General  Rennenkampf's  force  captured  in  East 
Prussia,  had  been  sent  to  work  in  the  fields  outside  a  little 
German  town  in  Alsace.  Several  of  these,  among  them 
Mars,  had  been  wounded  and  in  hospital  together,  but  were 
turned  out  as  cured  the  moment  they  were  strong  enough 
to  wield  a  scythe.  Led  by  Mars,  a  young  Russian  officer 
and  a  private  in  a  Highland  regiment  had  escaped  from 
the  gang  of  prisoners  by  crawling  for  a  long  distance 
through  tall  ranks  of  grain.  They  had  hidden  themselves 
among  the  stacks,  and  at  night  had  continued  their 
progress  in  the  direction — they  hoped — of  the  French  fron 
tier.  Next  morning  they  were  given  shelter  by  a  farmer's 
wife  whose  sympathies  were  with  France.  She  pro 
vided  them  with  disguises,  but  they  ventured  to  move  only 
at  night.  At  the  end  of  four  nights'  travel  they  came  upon 

264 


SECRET  HISTORY  265 

French  soldiers  advancing  into  Alsace,  and  made  them 
selves  known,  but  not  until  they  had  been  fired  on  as  spies. 
Mars  and  the  Russian  had  both  been  wounded,  and  were  in 
a  French  field  hospital  at  the  time  the  newspaper  account 
of  their  adventures  went  to  press.  Neither  were  badly 
hurt,  but  they  were  extremely  weak  from  lack  of  food 
and  loss  of  blood,  to  say  nothing  of  old  wounds  scarcely 
healed  when  they  had  started  on  their  dash  for  free 
dom.  The  Russian  officer  (said  to  be  a  nephew  of  Prince 
Sanzanow,  Russia's  ambassador  to  England)  considered 
that  he  owed  his  life  to  the  aviator;  and  it  was  believed 
that  when  the  two  were  able  to  move  they  would  be 
brought  to  a  private  convalescent  home  in  London, 
financed  by  the  Russian  ambassadress  and  other  great 
ladies. 

I  was  so  happy  for  the  rest  of  the  day  that,  as  I  could  tell 
no  one  what  was  in  my  heart,  I  sang  to  myself,  under  my 
breath,  "It's  a  long,  long  way  to  Tipperary."  Eagle  was 
alive  and  safe  after  all  my  black  fears,  and  I  felt  sure  that 
if  he  came  to  England  I  should  meet  him.  He  could  not  say 
now  that  he  had  done  nothing  "worth  while."  I  thought, 
too,  that  he  would  see  the  time  had  come  at  last  to  let  the 
world  know  that  "Monsieur  Mars "  and  Captain  Eagleston 
March  were  one.  I  longed  for  the  day  of  revelation.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  it  would  be  a  great  day.  I  could  hardly 
wait  for  it  to  arrive;  but  a  fortnight  passed  and  the  papers 
had  no  more  to  say  of  "Mars,  the  elusive." 

Meanwhile,  the  world  had  been  busily  making  history  for 
its  future  generations,  and  momentous  things  had  been  hap 
pening  to  almost  every  one  I  knew,  except  myself  and  my 
own  immediate  circle.  Since  I  had  first  met  Milly  at  Di- 


266  SECRET  HISTORY 

ana's  many  weeks  ago,  and  had  been  shown  the  letter  from 
Stefan,  he  had  actually  arrived  in  England  from  Arch 
angel,  whence  gossip  said  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
other  Russians  had  been  mysteriously  shipped  to  north 
Britain.  Alas  for  romance!  those  Russian  hordes  were  im 
aginary,  but  there  was  no  doubt  that  Milly  Dalziel's 
Russian  had  appeared  in  flesh  and  blood — though  with 
only  enough  of  either  to  keep  body  and  soul  together. 
They  had  been  married  a  few  days  after  Count  Stefan 
Stefanovitch  had  arrived — a  picturesque  wedding  per 
formed  with  all  formalities  by  a  Russian  priest,  while  the 
bridegroom  lay  propped  up  in  bed,  in  that  suite  at  the 
Savoy  of  which  Mrs.  Dalziel  had  talked,  no  guests  present 
except  the  bride's  mother  and  father  (Tony  Senior  having 
obediently  dashed  across  the  ocean)  and  the  Russian  am 
bassador  with  his  wife. 

At  the  time  I  was  not  unselfish  enough  to  interest  myself 
profoundly  in  Milly's  marriage,  for  my  mind  was  filled  with 
thoughts  of  Eagle  March,  and  I  could  not  forget  how  Milly, 
snubbed  by  him  for  her  own  good,  had  let  her  supposed  love 
for  Eagle  turn  into  bitter  spite.  I  didn't  believe  that  a 
girl  who  had  so  lately  cared  for  a  man  like  Eagle  March 
could  really  have  been  caught  in  a  rebound  of  heart 
by  Stefan  Stefanovitch.  I  had  seen  Stefan  no  more 
than  once  or  twice,  when  he  was  military  attache  at  the 
Russian  Embassy,  but  that  was  often  enough  for  me  to 
know  some  of  his  limitations.  In  looks  and  manner  he 
compared  poorly  with  Eagle,  to  my  mind.  I  was  inclined 
to  think  that  without  his  counthood  Milly  would  have 
had  no  use  for  him,  or  he  for  her  without  her  money.  This 
spoilt  the  romance  of  the  affair  in  my  eyes,  and  I  had  no 


SECRET  HISTORY  267 

premonition  of  what  Milly's  Russian  relationships  were 
soon  to  mean  for  me. 

When  she  had  been  married  a  little  more  than  a  fortnight 
and  before  any  further  news  had  come  out  concerning  the 
"Elusive  Mars"  and  his  companion,  I  was  told  one  day  by 
Miss  Jane  that  I  was  called  for  at  the  telephone.  I  left  a 
roomful  of  baby  Belgians,  for  whom  I  was  playing  nurse 
maid,  to  run  to  the  'phone,  and  was  stabbed  with  dis 
appointment  to  hear  Diana's  voice.  You  see,  every  rap  of 
the  postman,  every  b-b-bur-r-r  of  the  telephone  bell,  might 
mean  the  longed-for  message  from  Eagle  which  always  I 
hoped  for,  even  expected ! 

"  Hello,  Peggy ! "  said  Di.  "  I've  got  a  piece  of  good  news 
for  you." 

My  heart  gave  a  silly  leap  and  then  sat  down  again; 
because  she  would  be  the  last  person  in  the  world  to  give 
me  news  of  Eagle  March. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked,  without  interest. 

"Princess  Sanzanow  hasn't  forgotten  you,  and  sends  you 
a  special  message." 

(Princess  Sanzanow  is  the  wife  of  the  Russian  ambas 
sador.) 

"She's  giving  quite  an  informal  dinner,"  Di  went  on, 
"getting  it  up  almost  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  be 
cause  the  doctor  says  that  Stefan  is  well  enough  to  go 
out,  and  the  affair  is  really  for  him  and  Milly.  I  don't 
think  there'll  be  many  there  except  ourselves,  for  the 
princess  is  asking  every  one  verbally.  That's  why  she 
sends  you  a  message  instead  of  a  card.  It  is  to  say  that 
she  has  always  admired  'la  petite  Lady  Peggy,'  and  now 
more  than  ever.  I  happened  to  tell  her  about  your  Liege 


268  SECRET  HISTORY 

experience,  and  your  work  for  the  Belgians.  She  par 
ticularly  wants  me  to  bring  you  to  dinner  with  her  and  the 
prince  to-morrow  night.  You'll  come,  of  course?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  if  I  can!"  I  hesitated.  "There's  so 
much  to  do  here,  and,  anyhow,  I  haven't  a  frock.  Miss 
Jane  and  Miss  Emma  bought  me  lots  of  nice  things  when 
they  bought  their  own,  for,  of  course,  they  lost  their  lug 
gage,  too.  But  we  never  so  much  as  thought  of  evening 
dresses.  I'd  forgotten  their  existence ! " 

"But  you  must  go,"  Di  persisted.  "The  trunk  you 
stored  at  Norfolk  Street  for  Ballyconal  has  been  brought 
here  with  Father's  and  Kitty's  things.  Celestine  can  take 
the  measurements  of  some  frock  or  other  you've  packed 
away  there,  and  I'll  go  out  and  choose  a  pretty  model 
gown,  ready  to  wear,  for  a  present  to  you.  Shoes  and 
gloves  you  can  get  yourself,  I  suppose?  If  you'll  come 
here  early  to  dress,  Celestine  can  take  tucks  and  change 
hooks  in  next  to  no  time,  if  necessary.  I  accepted  for  you; 
and  it  will  be  horribly  rude  to  the  Princess  if  you  refuse 
now,  for  no  reason  at  all." 

I  could  have  found  or  invented  a  reason,  if  I  hadn't  re 
membered  in  a  sudden  flash  that  Monsieur  Mars'  com 
panion  in  flight  was  supposed  to  be  a  nephew  of  Prince 
Sanzanow.  If  I  went  to  the  Embassy  I  might  hear  news.  I 
was  willing  to  do  almost  anything  for  that  hope,  even  to 
dressing  at  Sidney  Vandyke's  house,  and  continuing  the 
armed  truce  in  his  automobile  to  our  destination.  But 
I  drew  the  line  at  accepting  a  frock  bought  with  his  money. 

"Why,  yes,  I'd  forgotten  the  trunk  I  packed  up  with 
winter  things  for  Ballyconal,"  I  answered.  "There's  that 


SECRET  HISTORY  269 

white  chiffon  velvet  gown,  made  over  from  yours,  which  I 
wore  in  New  York  last  spring  before  the  weather  turned  hot. 
Do  you  remember?  It  will  do  beautifully  for  to-morrow 
night.  I'm  sure  it's  as  good  as  ever,  so  you  needn't  buy  me 
anything;  many  thanks.  And  I'm  so  glad  you  spoke  of 
the  trunk.  I'll  have  it  brought  up  here  afterward.  It's 
small  and  won't  take  up  much  room.  There  are  lots  of 
things  in  it  I  can  spare  for  our  Belgian  women." 

"Very  well,  as  you  like,"  said  Di.  "That  white  vel 
vet  was  quite  nice,  and  will  be  all  right  if  it  is  not  full  of 
beggar's  creases.  You  can  have  the  little  trunk  put  on 
the  luggage  carrier  of  the  car  to-morrow  night  when  we 
send  you  back  to  Fitzjohn's  Avenue.  It  will  save  the 
trouble  of  getting  Carter  Paterson  or  some  one  else  to  call 
here  for  it.  And  that  reminds  me:  one  of  the  things  I 
wanted  to  say  to  you  was  this:  you  were  asking  Bally 
if  he  had  any  old  clothes  to  spare  you  for  your  Belgian 
women's  husbands.  Well,  Kitty  has  found  a  few,  but 
there  are  a  whole  heap  of  Sidney's  things  you  can  have  if 
you  want  them.  Masses  of  luggage  have  just  arrived 
from  America:  boxes  of  books  and  rugs,  and  trunks  full 
of  clothing  packed  up  and  sent  after  him  by  his  soldier- 
servant  when  Sid  definitely  decided  to  resign  and  live 
over  here.  All  the  clothes  are  a  bit  out  of  date  now,  or 
Sidney  thinks  so,  and  there  are  some  army  things  he 
never  wants  to  see  any  more.  Anyhow,  he  has  collected 
quantities  of  new  clothes,  and  if  you  would  like  the  Ameri 
can  things  for  your  men  proteges,  you're  welcome  to 
them." 

It  went  against  the  grain  with  me  to  accept  even  this 
favour  from  the  enemy;  but  I  reflected  hastily  that  I  had 


270  SECRET  HISTORY 

no  right  to  refuse  what  would  do  good  to  others.  After 
all,  it  was  nothing  to  me,  and  Sidney  could  not  help  realiz 
ing  that,  if  he  heard  of  the  transaction.  I  thanked  Di 
again,  and  said  I  should  be  glad  of  anything  she  had  to 
give,  as  the  destitution  among  the  men  of  the  Belgian 
refugees  was  as  pitiful  as  among  the  women.  "We  shall 
be  thankful  to  get  the  collection  out  of  the  house,"  an 
swered  Diana.  "Sid's  man  unpacked  the  boxes  and,  of 
course,  was  free  to  choose  what  he  wanted  for  himself, 
but  he's  such  a  little  monkey,  none  of  the  clothes  would 
fit  him.  I  remembered  you  and  your  poor  people,  which  I 
do  think  was  rather  sweet  of  me,  as  I  have  such  crowds  of 
things  to  do  every  moment;  so  I  told  Sykes  to  spread  the 
lot  out  in  that  empty  room  we  haven't  furnished  yet,  di 
rectly  over  mine.  I  mean  to  have  it  turned  into  a  kind 
of  'den'  for  Sid,  so  the  sooner  we  can  sweep  away  the  boxes 
and  mess  generally,  the  better.  Suppose  you  look  in  after 
the  dinner  at  the  Embassy  to-morrow  night,  and  pick 
out  what  you  fancy.  Sykes  can  dump  everything  into  an 
empty  trunk  for  you,  and  it  can  be  put  with  yours  on  the 
back  of  the  Grayles-Grice  for  you  to  cart  off  to  Hamp- 
stead." 

I  knew  that  if  I  wished  to  make  sure  of  the  booty,  I  had 
better  take  Di  at  her  word,  for  as  likely  as  not  she  would 
change  her  mind  in  a  day  or  two,  and  offer  the  things  to 
somebody  else.  I  replied  that  I  thought  her  plan  a  very 
good  one,  and  I  would  carry  it  out  exactly  as  she  proposed. 

The  next  evening  I  went  early  to  Park  Lane,  in  order 
to  unearth  the  white  velvet  frock  from  the  old  trunk 
packed  for  Ireland,  and  dress  myself  in  it  when  it  was  found. 
Talking  to  Kitty  and  Di  delayed  me  for  a  few  minutes, 


SECRET  HISTORY  271 

however,  so  that  I  had  no  time  to  waste  when  I  ran  up  to 
the  shuttered  room  where  my  little  trunk,  as  well  as  Sid 
ney's  things  from  America,  were  in  temporary  storage. 
No  one  could  be  spared  to  help  me,  as  Di's  maid  and  Kitty's 
had  already  begun  to  lay  out  their  mistresses'  things  for 
dinner.  But  I  have  been  used  all  my  life  to  looking  after 
myself.  I  didn't  in  the  least  mind  grubbing  on  my  knees 
to  unlock  the  box,  finding  the  dress  I  wanted,  and  un 
wrapping  it  from  layers  of  tissue  paper.  As  I  stood  up  to 
shake  the  frock,  and  examine  anxiously  as  to  its  condition 
by  the  light  of  the  electric  lamp,  which  I  had  switched  on 
for  the  purpose,  I  saw  many  suits  of  Sidney  Vandyke's 
clothes  neatly  folded  by  Sykes,  his  valet,  and  piled  on 
tables  and  boxes. 

It  was  too  late  then  to  look  at  the  things  before  dressing, 
but  I  cast  an  appraising  glance  in  their  direction,  and  my 
eyes  lit  upon  what  seemed  to  be  a  khaki  uniform,  bundled 
ignominiously  beween  a  suit  of  evening  clothes  and  a 
crimson  dressing-gown. 

"Fancy  his  not  having  sentiment  enough  to  keep  his 
army  things!"  I  thought  scornfully.  "But,  of  course, 
he  was  never  a  real  soldier  at  heart,  or  he  wouldn't  have 
resigned,  at  his  age,  to  be  lazy  and  please  Diana!  How 

different  from "  But  I  wouldn't  let  myself  even 

think  Eagle's  name  in  that  connection. 

Fortunately  I  had  packed  away  the  white  chiffon  vel 
vet  with  unusual  care  (for  me),  and  there  were  few  creases 
in  the  soft  folds  which  wouldn't  disappear  eventually 
when  I  had  put  the  frock  on.  As  I  dressed  in  a  far  corner 
of  Di's  room  (well  out  of  her  way  and  that  of  her  maid, 
Celestine,  and  managing  my  toilet  operations  as  best  I 


272  SECRET  HISTORY 

could  with  a  small  hand  glass)  my  thoughts  would  fly 
back  to  that  old  khaki  uniform  upstairs.  I  wondered  if 
it  were  one  Sidney  had  worn  in  camp  in  Texas  days  when 
his  jealous  rage  was  piling  up  against  Eagle.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  there  must  be  an  evil  influence  hanging  about 
those  clothes  of  his;  and  I  was  still  thinking  this  when 
Major  Vandyke,  Father,  Diana,  and  Kitty  and  I  were 
bunched  together,  a  rather  silent  party,  in  Di's  big,  roomy 
town  car,  spinning  from  Park  Lane  to  the  Russian  Em 
bassy  with  Kitchener's  "night  lights"  fanning  long  white 
arms  across  the  sky  of  unnaturally  darkened  London. 

As  it  was  supposed  to  be  a  small,  informal  dinner,  we 
arrived  promptly  on  the  hour;  and  when  Princess  San- 
zanow — a  beautiful,  tall  woman,  with  the  mysterious,  sad 
eyes  of  the  Slav  people — had  greeted  us,  she  said  that  four 
of  her  guests  had  still  to  arrive :  Count  and  Countess  Stef- 
anovitch,  and  two  others  whose  presence  was  to  be  the 
surprise  of  the  evening.  "I  will  tell  you  only  this,"  she 
laughed,  in  her  pretty  English,  when  Di  pretended  to  be 
wildly  curious;  "like  Stefan  they  have  both  come  back 
from  the  front,  and  they  are  the  most  exciting  heroes! 
I  won't  dream  of  spoiling  my  great  coup  by  letting  you 
guess  their  names  until  they  are  announced;  but  this  you 
shall  know,  dear  Lady  Diana:  my  two  'surprises'  are  to 
have  the  honour  of  taking  you  and  our  bride  in  to  dinner. 
All  the  other  women  will  be  envying  you  both." 

Di  was  pleased  and  interested.  She  realized  that  our 
hostess  meant  to  pay  her,  as  well  as  Milly,  a  great  compli 
ment;  for  those  "other  women"  of  whom  the  princess 
spoke  were  important  socially,  and  charming  in  themselves. 
What  she  had  called  a  "small,  informal  dinner"  would  be 


SECRET  HISTORY  273 

made  up  of  twenty-two  guests;  and  the  informality  would 
consist  in  the  innovation  of  having  small  tables. 

The  princess  introduced  me  to  a  very  young  youth,  her 
son,  who  had  been  away  at  Eton  when  I  had  visited  at 
the  embassy  before.  He  began  at  once  to  air  his  griev 
ance  of  lacking  a  year  of  the  age  when  a  man  can  be  al 
lowed  to  serve  his  country;  and  I  was  sympathizing  with 
him  because  he  was  not  fighting  when  Milly  and  her  hus 
band  were  announced.  She  was  looking  prettier  than  I 
had  ever  seen  her,  with  quite  new  airs  and  graces  of  a 
married  woman  and  a  countess;  and  Stefan,  though  ex 
tremely  plain  of  face  and  insignificant  of  figure,  was  in 
teresting  because  of  his  experiences,  his  limp,  and  his  right 
arm  in  a  black  silk  sling. 

Milly  seemed  to  think  that  she  and  her  husband  were 
the  guests  of  the  evening  and  apologized  in  a  high  voice 
for  being  late,  but  the  princess  reassured  her. 

"We  have  still  two  more  to  come.  Our  two  surprises," 
and  she  was  going  on  to  excite  Milly's  curiosity  as  she  had 
Diana's,  when  the  magnificent  Russian  butler,  who  looked 
as  if  he  had  stepped  from  some  medieval  picture,  cried 
aloud  two  names: 

"Major  Baron  Skobeleff;  Captain  March." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

MY  BLOOD  so  flew  to  my  head  that  for  a  second  or 
two  I  was  giddy,  and  saw  nothing  through  the 
rain  of  sparks  which  hung  like  a  veil  before  my 
eyes.  But  in  an  instant  I  came  to  myself,  wrenched  back 
to  a  clear  vision  of  things  by  sheer  necessity  to  act.  Some 
body  would  have  to  do  something,  if  the  situation  were  not 
to  ruin  the  princess's  whole  evening;  and  after  all  he  had 
suffered,  whatever  happened,  Eagle  March  must  be  saved 
from  the  pain  of  public  humiliation.  Yet  who  was  to  do 
anything?  Who  was  to  save  him? 

Only  a  few  persons  knew  that  to  arrange  a  meeting 
between  Sidney  Vandyke,  Diana,  Milly,  and  Captain 
Eagles  ton  March,  was  about  as  tactful  as  to  invite  the 
King  of  Belgium  to  dine  with  the  German  Kaiser.  Only 
a  few  persons  knew,  and  those  most  concerned  were  the 
very  ones  who  would  do  least  to  shield  Eagle's  feel 
ings. 

The  princess  began  gayly  to  explain  that  here  was  her 
great  "surprise"  at  last:  the  two  heroes  of  whose  classic 
escape  the  whole  world  had  heard.  The  "Elusive  Mars,"  as 
he  had  been  called,  was  in  reality  Captain  March,  who 
had  refused  to  make  use  any  longer  of  his  nom  de  guerre. 
But  in  the  midst  of  explanations,  as  she  would  gently  have 
led  Eagle  toward  Diana  (oh,  horror!  she  had  evidently 
planned  to  send  these  two  in  to  dinner  together!),  sud- 

274 


SECRET  HISTORY  275 

denly  she  realized  that  some  freezing  spell  had  turned  her 
principal  guests  to  figures  of  ice. 

Eagle,  struck  with  deadly  pallor  under  the  brown  mask 
sun  and  wind  had  given  him,  stiffened  involuntarily  and 
held  back.  Sidney  had  gone  crimson,  and  then  yellow- 
white;  Diana — with  a  shocked  face  drained  of  colour — 
looked  ready  to  faint;  while  Milly,  in  all  her  new  pride 
of  importance,  flung  up  her  head  and  stared  insultingly. 
This  transformation  had  taken  place  with  the  announce 
ment  of  the  officers'  names;  and  it  took  Prince  and  Princess 
Sanzanow  no  longer  than  is  needed  in  the  counting  one — 
two — three  to  notice  it.  Living  all  their  lives  in  an  atmos 
phere  of  diplomacy  as  they  did,  even  their  great  tact  and 
presence  of  mind  failed  for  a  few  dismal  seconds  to  cope 
with  the  emergency,  it  being  so  utterly  unforeseen,  and 
such  a  blow  to  them  that  their  cherished  "surprise"  should 
be  not  only  a  dead  failure  but  a  brutal  catastrophe. 

They  must  have  realized  in  a  flash  that  these  people 
whom  they  had  brought  together  were  bitter  enemies.  They 
must,  in  a  rush  of  emotion,  have  blamed  themselves  and 
each  other  for  not  finding  out  in  time  what  perhaps  they 
might  have  suspected  or  known  without  telling  had  they 
not  been  foreigners  and  comparative  strangers  in  London 
society.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  could  not  have  known 
unless  they  had  catechized  Americans,  which  it  would 
never  have  occurred  to  them  to  do;  but  no  doubt  the 
thought  came  to  their  minds,  and  they  must  have  cursed 
their  "inspiration"  for  that  "pleasant  surprise." 

I  saw  Princess  Sanzanow's  eyes  appeal  in  despair  to 
her  husband.  But  the  situation  was  too  complicated 
even  for  him  to  solve  in  a  second,  for  the  worst  was  yet 


276  SECRET  HISTORY 

to  come.  Thinking  to  compliment  Di,  and  honour  the 
man  who  had  brought  their  nephew  out  of  captivity,  they 
had  arranged  that  Captain  March  should  take  Lady 
Diana  Vandyke  in  to  dinner.  The  expression  on  her  face 
and  the  stiffening  of  his  muscles  had  shown  this  plan  to 
be  impossible,  to  say  nothing  of  Major  Vandyke's  mad- 
bull  glare.  Now,  at  an  instant's  warning,  there  would 
have  to  be  a  general  post,  and  changing  of  partners;  and  the 
most  desperate  difficulty  of  all  must  have  lain  in  the  prin 
cess's  complete  ignorance  of  the  facts.  She  stood  there 
among  the  company  she  had  invited  to  meet  each  other  as 
if  blindfold,  not  knowing  which  ones,  or  how  many,  were 
affected  by  the  vendetta. 

I  saw  and  divined  this  between  two  heartbeats,  for  I 
was  one  of  those  who  knew  the  undercurrents  hidden  from 
strangers;  and  in  such  moments  one  thinks  quickly.  Of 
all  the  guests,  I  was  the  least  important,  and  the  youngest 
except  the  Sanzanow  boy;  yet  I  felt  that  I  was  the  only 
person  present  who  could  or  would  act  in  time.  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  risk  seeming  rude  or  shockingly  bold. 
There  was  just  one  thing  I  could  think  of  to  do,  and  I  did 
it. 

Into  the  midst  of  that  brief,  freezing  pause,  I  plunged. 
Almost  running  forward,  I  held  out  both  hands  to  Eagle. 
"Oh,  dear  Princess!"  I  gasped.  "We  are  the  best  and 
oldest  friends,  Captain  March  and  I.  We've  known  each 
other  since — since  I  was  a  child;  and  we  met  in  Belgium 
when  he  was  'Monsieur  Mars.'" 

Eagle  grasped  my  hands  so  tightly  that  I  should  have 
had  to  cry  out  if  I  had  worn  rings,  and  Princess  Sanzanow 
gave  me  such  a  look  of  touching  gratitude  that  I  was  sure 


SECRET  HISTORY  277 

I  had  been  lucky  enough  to  do  the  right  thing.  "Oh,  I 
am  so  glad!'*  she  breathed.  "Then,  if  you  are  great 
friends,  you  will  want  to  go  in  to  dinner  together,  and  I 
must  let  you  do  so." 

She  had  the  air  of  having  just  been  saved  from  drowning; 
and  I  was  the  straw  which  had  thrust  itself  out  in  the  nick 
of  time  for  her  to  catch.  Having  accomplished  my  mis 
sion  as  a  straw,  I  gave  my  attention  wholly  to  Eagle,  but 
though  I  tried  not  to  notice,  I  was  dimly  conscious,  all  the 
same,  of  what  was  going  on  around  me.  I  saw  Major 
Skobeleff,  the  young  Russian  officer  whose  escape  Eagle 
had  aided — Prince  Sanzanow's  nephew — talking  to  Milly; 
and  noticed  that  Stefan  Stefanovitch  had  been  given  to 
Di  as  a  substitute  for  Captain  March.  Somehow  or  other 
the  princess  juggled  her  guests  about  so  that  three  min 
utes  after  the  crash,  when  dinner  was  announced,  all  could 
"set  to  partners"  without  confusion.  There  was  a  French 
duchess — a  refugee  from  Paris — present,  whom  the  prince 
had  to  take  in,  and  the  princess  had  the  duke.  That  ar 
rangement  couldn't  be  upset;  and  the  only  quite  ridiculous 
effect  of  the  whirlwind  was  to  give  young  Prince  Paul  to 
a  widow  old  enough  to  be  his  grandmother. 

I  had  rushed  into  talk  with  Eagle  before  we  stopped 
shaking  hands;  but  he  had  not  been  able  to  answer  the 
call  of  conventionality  so  soon;  and  it  was  not  till  after 
we  were  seated  at  table  that  he  could  control  himself  to 
speak.  On  his  other  side  was  Prince  Paul's  elderly  din 
ner  companion.  On  my  other  side  was  the  new  military 
attache  who  had  taken  the  count's  place  in  the  Embassy, 
a  man  past  the  soldiering  age;  and  as  he  had  Madame 
Pavlova  to  talk  to,  for  him  I  did  not  exist.  Eagle  and  I 


278  SECRET  HISTORY 

could  speak  to  each  other  as  if  we  were  alone  together  in 
a  forest  haunted  with  far-off  voices. 

"What  a  fool  I  was  to  come  here!"  he  said.  "I  ought 
to  have  known." 

"Don't  be  sorry,"  I  whispered.  "Think  how  glad  I 
am  to  see  you.  And  there's  no  reason — no  reason  in  the 
world — why  you  should  wish  to  keep  out  of  their  way. 
You  have  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of — but  very  proud." 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you  again,"  he  answered.  "Don't 
imagine  I'm  not!  But  I  meant  to  see  you,  anyhow.  I've 
known  for  weeks  where  you  were.  I  made  that  kind  old 
parson  who  piloted  you  home  promise  to  wire  to  an  ad 
dress  I  gave,  when  you  got  safely  back  to  England.  And 
afterward  he  wrote  to  tell  me  what  fine  work  you  were 
doing.  This  is  the  first  time  I've  been  out  anywhere  except 
for  an  invalid  crawl  or  two.  It's  only  three  days  since 
we  left  the  nursing  home  in  Fitzroy  Square,  where  Prince 
and  Princess  Sanzanow  visited  us  several  times.  Skobeleff 
is  their  nephew,  you  know.  They  asked  us  both  to  stay 
with  them,  and  Skobeleff  is  being  moved  here  by  his  servant 
to-night;  but  I  made  an  excuse  not  to  come — said  it  would 
hurt  the  feelings  of  an  old  friend  who  had  offered  to 
lend  me  his  chambers  in  Whitehall  Court  to  finish  getting 
well  in.  The  Sanzanows  wouldn't  take  a  refusal  for 
dinner  this  evening,  though.  It  made  no  difference  my 
telling  them  who  I  really  am,  March  instead  of  Mars.  I 
thought  they  were  sure  to  know  something  of  my  story. 
They  said,  when  I  tried  to  cry  off,  that  it  was  going  to  be 
a  small  dinner — just  a  few  friends  who  would  like  to  meet 
Skobeleff  and  me,  so  I  let  myself  be  persuaded.  This  is 
the  result!" 


SECRET  HISTORY  279 

As  we  spoke  together,  the  conversation  around  us  mur 
mured  vaguely  in  my  ears.  I  heard  it  without  listening, 
as  one  can  hear  an  undertone  of  murmuring  sea  beneath 
all  other  sounds.  People  were  talking  of  the  one  inevi 
table  subject,  the  war,  with  variations;  the  New  Patriot 
ism  which  has  made  the  Tory  Lion  and  the  Liberal  Lamb 
lie  down  together  in  peace,  side  by  side,  paying  each  other 
compliments;  the  good-girl  tactics  of  the  suffragettes; 
the  surprising  slump  in  murders  and  every  sort  of  crime; 
possible  raids  of  Zeppelins;  and  the  amusingly  persistent 
legend  of  Russians  in  France;  the  same  things  which  were 
being  discussed  at  that  very  moment,  no  doubt,  in  every 
household  high  and  low,  from  one  end  of  Great  Britain  to 
the  other,  but  always  new  and  ever  interesting,  yesterday, 
to-day,  and  to-morrow.  I  glanced  at  Di  and  Major  Van 
dyke  and  Milly,  to  see  how  they  were  bearing  themselves, 
and  I  was  not  pleased  with  what  I  saw. 

The  princess  had  distributed  her  guests  at  three  small 
tables,  and,  of  course,  had  separated  Di  and  Sidney.  I  had 
to  crane  my  head  round  a  floral  monoplane,  which  was  our 
centrepiece,  to  catch  sight  of  them  at  their  separate 
tables;  and  even  so,  I  had  but  a  glimpse  now  and  then  of  a 
profile.  But  the  expression  of  those  profiles,  and  the 
earnest,  confidential  way  in  which  they  turned  toward  their 
neighbours,  convinced  me  that  they  were  not  talking  war- 
talk.  Milly  faced  me  where  I  sat,  and  though  the  tables 
were  lit  by  amber-shaded  wax  candles  which  gave  an  ivory 
effect  to  the  women's  complexions,  the  primrose  light  could 
not  subdue  Milly's  colour.  As  a  rule,  she  was  rather  pale, 
but  to-night  cheeks  and  ears  were  flushed  deep  rose  colour. 
She  looked  excited  and  childishly  angry,  her  greenish-gray 


280  SECRET  HISTORY 

eyes  dilated  and  her  lips  pouting.  Had  she  not  been 
conscious  of  her  new  honours  as  a  married  woman  and 
a  countess,  I  don't  think  she  would  have  dared  dis 
play  her  feelings  at  a  dinner-party  of  so  much  impor 
tance.  Once  or  twice  she  stared  with  narrowed  gaze 
across  the  room  at  Eagle  March,  then  turned  to  one  of  her 
two  companions  in  such  a  way  as  almost  to  advertise  the 
fact  that  she  was  speaking  of  him.  She  would  make  little  im 
pression,  I  thought,  on  Major  Skobeleff  if  she  tried  to  prej 
udice  him  against  Eagle;  but  it  might  be  different  with  the 
man  on  her  other  side,  who  knew  nothing  of  Captain  March 
save  what  she  had  to  tell;  and  even  Skobeleff — though 
surely  he  would  not  believe  evil  of  his  comrade — could  not 
help  remembering.  I  could  imagine  Milly  whispering: 
"What  an  awful  fa  ux  pas  for  the  princess  to  have  brought 
Major  Vandyke  and  Captain  March  together  in  her  house, 
where  they  can't  get  away  from  one  another  for  hours,  with 
out  being  rude  to  her  and  the  prince !  Why,  the  man  was 
such  an  enemy  of  Major  Vandyke's  that  he  actually  be 
trayed  his  country  in  the  hope  of  ruining  his  superior  officer. 
It's  a  long  story,  but  I  can  tell  it  to  you  if  you  like.  Cap 
tain  March  had  to  leave  the  United  States  army  in  the 
most  dreadful  disgrace!" 

She  looked  so  like  a  spiteful,  green-eyed  cat,  that  I 
seemed  to  hear  the  words  hissed  out;  and  as  the  man  whose 
ear  approached  her  lips  was  one  of  the  famous  gossips  of 
London,  I  could  imagine,  too,  how  the  story  would  spread 
and  grow.  Milly  would  certainly  tell  Prince  and  Princess 
Sanzanow,  also,  before  she  went  home,  what  a  dreadful 
thing  they  had  done  in  asking  "that  notorious  Captain 
March"  to  be  their  guest,  and  especially  to  meet  Major  and 


SECRET  HISTORY  281 

Lady  Diana  Vandyke.  Sidney,  too,  if  he  could  pile  any 
thing  more  on  the  injuries  of  the  past,  would  be  sure  to  do 
his  best. 

As  I  thought  these  thoughts  my  cheeks  began  to  burn 
even  more  hotly  than  Milly's.  I  had  been  questioning 
Eagle  about  his  adventures,  and  he  had  been  answering  in 
the  laconic  way  most  brave  men  have  when  teased  to  talk 
of  themselves;  but  for  a  minute,  keen  though  I  was,  I  lost 
the  thread  of  narrative  I  had  begun  eagerly  drawing  out. 
This  was  when  I  met  Milly's  eyes  and  flung  a  challenge 
from  mine  to  hers.  "Dare  to  hurt  him  with  your  lying 
tongue,  and  somehow,  surely  as  you  live,  I'll  make  you 
repent.  Don't  dream  that  my  affection  for  Tony  can 
stand  between  you  and  me,"  was  the  warning  I  sent. 

Silently  we  defied  each  other  in  the  savage  and  primi 
tive  way  which  we  female  human  things  have  merely 
modernized,  not  modified,  since  the  days  of  Lilith  up  to  the 
days  of  suffragettes.  I  was  asking  myself  what  punish 
ment  I  could  devise  and  inflict,  if  necessary,  to  fit  Milly's 
crime,  and  how  I — so  small  and  powerless — could  dig  my 
self  into  a  defensive  trench  between  Eagle  and  Sidney  Van 
dyke,  when  I  realized  that  Eagle's  eyes  were  studying  my 
flushed  face.  They  were  sad  eyes,  yet  there  was  a  faint 
glint  of  laughter  in  them. 

"You  little  fighter!"  he  said.  "You  never  throw  down 
the  cudgels  you've  taken  up  in  my  defence." 

"No,  and  never  will!"  I  answered,  defiance  in  my  voice 
even  for  him,  because  my  blood  had  been  set  on  fire  and  the 
flame  would  not  die  down. 

"You're  very  young!"  he  said,  with  a  faint  sigh.  "So 
young  that  you  haven't  learnt  not  to  hurl  yourself  against 


282  SECRET  HISTORY 

stone  walls.  Learn  the  lesson  from  me,  child.  Public 
opinion  is  a  stone  wall,  the  thickest  and  highest  in  the 
world.  The  tiny  bubble  of  my  reputation  was  wafted 
against  it  by  an  evil  wind,  and  burst  forever.  If  I  was  fool 
enough  once  to  hope  that  I  could  mend  it,  I  know  now  that  I 
was  mistaken.  Broken  bubbles  are  like  Humpty  Dumpty : 
they  can't  be  put  together  again;  and  I  don't  mean  to  break 
my  head  in  the  place  where  the  bubble  burst,  or  let  you 
break  yours." 

"We  shan't  break  our  heads,"  said  I.  "We'll  break 
other  people's  wicked  heads,  that  deserve  to  be  broken;  and 
they're  aching  hard  already  with  sheer  rage,  because  you've 
made  a  beautiful  new  bubble  for  yourself,  ever  so  much 
bigger  and  brighter  than  the  old  one  they  tried  to  burst. 
Only  tried,  because  they  may  find  that  it  didn't  smash 
when  it  seemed  to !  Then  if  the  old  bubble  is  saved,  there'll 
be  two,  solid  as  crystal  and  brilliant  as  rainbows — boom 
erang  bubbles — that  will  come  blowing  back  to  break  the 
brutes  who  wanted  to  burst  them!" 

Captain  March  laughed  out  aloud,  and  I  saw  Sidney  turn 
involuntarily  with  a  slight,  nervous  start,  as  if  he  fancied 
that  the  laugh  must  be  directed  against  him.  "Irish 
Peggy,  you're  inimitable ! "  said  Eagle.  "Look  out  for  your 
metaphors,  or  you'll  be  turning  my  bubble  into  a  bull ! " 

"  Hang  metaphors ! "  I  retorted.  "  I  wish  I  could  turn  the 
bubble  into  a  bull,  not  an  Irish,  but  a  wild  one,  and  set  it  at 
two  or  three  people.  Perhaps  I  shall  yet !  And  what  has 
made  you  suddenly  change  your  mind,  Eagle?  At  Liege, 
in  hospital,  you  told  me  how  you  hated  Sidney  Vandyke  and 
felt  as  if  you  could  choke  his  life  out." 

"I  haven't  changed  my  mind,"  he  said.     "I  hate  Van- 


SECRET  HISTORY  283 

dyke  now  as  I  hated  him  then,  more  if  possible.  That's  not 
Christian,  but  I  can't  help  it,  or  else  I  don't  try  to  help  it; 
I'm  not  sure  which.  If  by  killing  Vandyke  I  could  get  back 
what  he  took  from  me,  I  should  do  my  best  to  kill  him.  But 
I  am  just  cool  enough,  where  he  is  concerned,  to  realize  that 
I  can't  help  myself  by  hurting  him;  rather  the  contrary. 
That's  where  we  come  to  the  stone  wall.  So  I'm  not  going 
to  smash  what  he  has  left  of  my  head  on  the  stones  he  piled 
up  against  me.  To  do  that  would  be  giving  the  enemy  great 
satisfaction,  wouldn't  it?" 

"Perhaps!"  I  had  to  agree  with  a  sigh. 

"But  if  the  circumstances  ever  change  in  my  favour," 
Eagle  went  on,  his  pleasant  face  hardening  into  grimness, 
"and  I  can  get  revenge  without  putting  myself  in  the 
wrong,  God  help  Vandyke!" 

"I  hope  He  won't  help  him,  when  that  time  comes!"  I 
exclaimed.  "And  I  believe  it  will  come.  Something  of  ten 
tells  me  so— tells  me  that  I " 

"That  you — what?"  Eagle  prompted  me  as  I  broke  off. 

"That  I  shall  have  some  hand  in  the — the  retribution, 
whatever  it  may  be.  It's  what  I  always  pray  for." 

Eagle  gazed  straight  at  me,  with  eyes  which  had  changed 
sadly  since  the  day  they  first  met  mine  in  the  Wardour 
Street  shop.  I  had  thought  them  full  of  romance  and 
dreams  then.  Their  look  was  harder  and  older  now,  the 
look  of  a  man  who  has  been  down  very  near  to  the  gates  of 
hell,  and  by  desperate  fighting  has  battled  his  way  up  the 
heights  again,  but  not  so  high  as  to  forget  the  red  glare  that 
singed  his  eyeballs.  My  heart  ached,  because  it  seemed  im 
possible  that  the  peace  of  dreams  and  romance  could  ever 
come  back.  I  was  glad — glad,  that  Eagle's  heart  hadn't 


284  SECRET  HISTORY 

softened  toward  Sidney  Vandyke,  who  was  as  bitterly  his 
enemy  to-night  as  ever;  but  I  was  sorrowful  because  the 
beautiful  youth  of  a  man's  soul  had  been  scorched  in  the 
furnace  fire. 

"I  can't  bear  to  think  your  friendship  for  me  should 
harden  or  embitter  you,  Peggy,"  Eagle  said.  "Nothing  is 
worth  that !  I  oughtn't  to  talk  to  you  as  I've  been  talking 
now.  I  shan't  again.  Forgive  me,  and  forget.  Help  me 
to  forget !  Forge tfulness  is  the  best  thing  that  can  happen 
to  me  now.  I  realize  that  in  my  sensible  moments.  But 
it's  hard  to  be  sensible  always." 

How  I  wished  I  could  help  him  even  in  so  small  and  hum 
ble  a  fashion !  At  least,  I  could  try  to  draw  his  thoughts 
away  for  the  moment  from  the  unhealed  wound  violently  torn 
open.  It  was  a  temptation  to  dwell  on  it,  to  look  at  it  and 
feed  my  anger;  but  on  his  wistful  hint  I  threw  the  tempta 
tion  off.  Instead  of  returning  to  our  interrupted  talk  of  his 
adventures  as  I  wished  to  do,  I  answered  Eagle's  questions 
about  life  at  "The  Haven,"  and  told  him  pathetic  or  funny 
stories  of  our  refugees.  "I'm  getting  to  be  quite  a  weird 
combination  of  Red  Cross  nurse,  nursery-governess,  and 
nursemaid,"  I  said.  "I  really  ought  to  design  some  special 
sort  of  costume  suited  to  my  metier,  but  I've  never  had  time 
to  think  one  out  yet!  Meanwhile,  I  wear  a  badge  which 
keeps  up  my  courage,  and  gives  me  back  my  strength  when 
ever  I'm  tired.  You  couldn't  guess  what  it  is ! " 

"The  flag  of  the  Allies?  "  he  ventured. 

"  No.  The  chevron  you  gave  me  when  you  made  me  your 
corporal.  Do  you  remember?" 

I  saw  by  his  eyes  that  he  was  touched.  A  gleam  of  the 
old  light  flashed  into  them,  and  brightened  his  smile.  "  Do 


SECRET  HISTORY  285 

I  remember?"  he  echoed.  "Yes,  I  remember,  Peggy,  only 
too  well.  And  I  remember  the  day  you  flew  with  me  from 
Hendon  in  the  poor  old  Golden  Eagle,  heaven  rest  her 
ashes!  The  day  when — when  Lady  Diana  failed  me,  and 
your  pluck  and  presence  of  mind  saved  us  both  from 
coming  to  grief.  I  remember  lots  of  other  things  you've 
probably  forgotten;  and  I  use  the  memories  for  balm." 

I  had  to  look  down  suddenly  to  hide  the  tears  that  stung 
my  eyelids.  But  I  winked  them  away  in  an  instant,  and 
was  bracing  myself  to  make  him  laugh  by  mimicking  the 
man  who  had  introduced  us :  Nebuchadnezzar  of  Wardour 
Street. 

When  great  hothouse  peaches  and  amethyst  bunches  of 
grapes  were  brought  by  the  footman,  I  knew  that  soon 
Princess  Sanzanow  would  smile  at  the  French  duchess,  and 
we  should  all  troop  away  to  leave  the  men.  I  was  sure  that 
Eagle  would  not  join  the  ladies  conventionally  in  the 
drawing-room,  and  I  did  not  want  that  summons  to  mean  a 
long  good-bye.  I  asked  hastily,  therefore,  if  he  would  come 
and  see  me  and  the  Miss  Splatchleys  and  our  Belgians  at 
"The  Haven,"  when  he  had  grown  a  little  stronger. 

"I'm  strong  enough  now,"  he  said.  "Write  to-morrow 
to  tell  me  when  I  may  come,  and  let  it  be  soon,  for  the 
minute  I'm  fit  I  shall  go  back  to  the  front,  of  course." 

"Of  course,"  I  repeated  firmly,  though  my  heart  felt  as 
if  it  had  been  squeezed  by  a  mailed  fist.  "I  will  write  the 
first  thing  in  the  morning,  and  send  you  a  formal,  written 
invitation  from  dear  Miss  Emma  and  Miss  Jane." 

"Do.  My  address  is  21a  Whitehall  Court.  You  won't 
forget,  will  you?" 

"No,  I  won't  forget,"  I  assured  him,  with  a  secret  smile. 


286  SECRET  HISTORY 

"  Because  I  shall  beg  the  princess  as  she  passes  to  forgive 
me  if  I  go  without  bidding  her  farewell  in  the  drawing- 
room.  Being  a  bit  of  a  crock  still  gives  me  a  good  excuse, 
and — she'll  understand  and  be  glad  to  be  rid  of  me." 

Even  as  he  spoke,  the  signal  I'd  been  expecting  was  given 
by  our  hostess.  We  all  rose,  smiling  at  our  neighbours,  and 
the  men  stood  while  we  women  trailed  to  the  door.  I, 
being  last  of  all  the  guests,  saw  the  princess  pause  as  Cap 
tain  March  took  a  step  forward;  and  I  knew  that  he  was 
bidding  her  farewell. 

Then  I  went  on,  and  in  the  drawing-room  found  Di 
waiting  to  pounce,  anger  for  me  in  her  eyes,  a  smile  for 
everybody  else  on  her  lips. 

"How  dared  you!"  she  whispered.  "How  dared  you 
treat  that  man  as  if  he  were  your  best  friend ! " 

"Because  he  is,"  I  answered  bluntly. 

"Then  you're  no  friend  of  ours!  Sidney  and  I  will  never 
forgive  you  for  this  night — trying  to  put  us  both  in  the 
wrong  as  you  have!" 

"It's  an  honour  not  to  be  forgiven  for  that,"  I  flung  back 
at  her.  "Now  I'm  going  to  tell  the  princess  that  I  have  to 
get  back  early  to  my  Belgians,  and  I  shall  have  a  taxi  called 
to  take  me  away  because,  after  this,  I  can't  even  accept 
from  Sidney  a  lift  in  his  motor." 

"You  must  accept  it,"  whispered  Diana  furiously,  "if 
only  to  take  the  things  we're  giving  you  out  of  his 
house.  It  is  his  house,  you  know;  and  though  you're  my 
sister,  I  can't  expect  him  to  ask  you  into  it  again  as  a 
visitor,  after  your  deliberate  insult  to  us  both  to-night. 
Your  being  no  more  than  a  child  has  excused  some  things, 
but  it  can't  excuse  this;  for  you  haven't  acted  like  a  child. 


SECRET  HISTORY  287 

You've  acted  like  a  malicious  woman,  and — I  think  we've 
reached  the  end." 

"I  think  so,  too,"  I  replied.  "Don't  be  afraid.  I  shan't 
trouble  either  of  you  after  to-night.  I'll  not  go  in  your 
motor,  but  I'll  go  to  your  house  and  fetch  my  trunk. 
As  for  the  things  you  were  giving  to  the  refugees,  I'll  take 
them  or  not,  as  you  like." 

"  I'd  like  to  have  the  rubbish  out  of  the  way  and  see  the 
last  of  it,"  said  Diana;  and  looked  as  if  she  would  gladly 
see  the  last  of  me. 

I  apologized  prettily  to  the  princess,  explaining  how 
early  were  the  hours  of  "The  Haven,"  and  how  much 
there  was  to  do  there.  She  forgave  me  with  all  her  gra 
cious  charm,  pressing  my  hand  as  if  to  show  her  gratitude 
for  a  certain  incident  which  could  not  be  mentioned  in 
words;  and  five  minutes  later  I  was  spinning  alone  in  a 
taxi  toward  Park  Lane. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

I  HAD  been  offered  the  help  of  Celestine  and  Sid 
ney's  man  to  make  up  in  parcels  such  clothes  as 
I  wished  to  take  for  our  refugees  and  their  men 
folk;  but  now  I  determined  to  do  all  the  work  myself. 
The  bored-looking  footman  who  opened  the  house-door 
showed  no  surprise  or  interest  on  seeing  her  Ladyship's 
sister  arrive  in  advance  of  the  rest.  He  listened  respect 
fully  but  dully  as  I  briefly  explained  my  errand  and  told 
him  that  I  should  need  no  help  until  I  rang  for  my  trunk 
and  other  things  to  be  carried  downstairs.  When  I  had 
made  this  clear,  I  ran  up  to  the  room  above  Diana's  and 
shut  myself  in,  meaning  to  make  such  haste  with  what  I 
had  to  do  as  to  escape  with  my  booty,  if  possible,  before 
Di  and  her  husband  came  home. 

I  was  trembling  still  with  excitement  which  clouded  my 
mind  and  kept'me  from  thinking  clearly;  for  I  was  furiously 
angry  and  desperately  sad  at  the  same  time.  I  said  to 
myself  that  I  didn't  care  if  I  never  saw  Diana  again;  yet 
my  heart  was  ready  to  break  because  we  had  come  to  the 
parting  of  the  ways.  To-night,  I  thought,  I  was  definitely 
giving  up  my  family,  or  my  family  were  giving  me  up,  it 
mattered  very  little  which.  My  father  had  never  cared 
for  me,  therefore  I  had  not  cared  for  him  as  most  girls  care 
for  their  fathers.  Di  had  made  use  of  me,  but  had  never 
loved  me,  and  I  had  "seen  through"  her  ever  since  I  was 


SECRET  HISTORY  *       289 

a  tiny  child.  Lately  we  became  almost  as  strangers;  and 
yet  the  two  had  been  the  only  ones  near  to  me.  Break 
ing  with  them  was  like  a  small  figure  in  a  group  on  a  big 
canvas  suddenly  loosening  itself  and  falling  off  its  back 
ground,  a  mere  lonely  bit  of  paint. 

"What  will  become  of  me?"  I  wondered.  "I  can  never 
go  back  to  Ballyconal  now.  Yet  I  can't  spend  the  rest  of 
my  life  with  the  Miss  Splatchleys.  What  shall  I  do  when 
I'm  not  wanted  there  any  more?" 

Tears  began  to  drop  slowly  from  my  eyes,  then  to  rain 
fast  over  the  clothing  I  tried  to  sort.  I  knew  it  was  silly 
to  think  of  such  things.  There  would  be  plenty  of 
time  by  and  by  to  arrange  the  future.  But  I  could  not 
concentrate  my  mind  on  the  work  in  hand  until,  as  I  tossed 
the  neatly  folded  clothes  about  with  a  kind  of  stupid  aim- 
lessness,  I  came  once  more  upon  Sidney  Vandyke's  khaki 
uniform. 

"This  I  will  not  take,  anyhow!"  I  decided.  "It  would 
be  of  no  use,  and  I  do  believe  it  might  carry  a  curse  with 
it,  because  of  the  evil  thoughts  of  the  man  who  wore  it 
last.  I  wish  I  could  burn  it  up!" 

That  I  could  not  do;  but  to  show  spite  I  wreaked  such 
childish  vengeance  as  I  could  by  dashing  the  uniform  on 
to  the  floor  and  proceeding  to  trample  on  the  coat  with 
my  high-heeled  white  satin  slippers. 

As  I  kicked  it  away  in  loathing  at  last,  one  of  the  slippers 
flew  off  and  seemed  spitefully  to  follow  the  coat  as  if  to 
deal  one  final  insult.  It  turned  a  somersault  on  the  way, 
as  defiantly  as  the  Golden  Eagle  had  "looped  the  loop" 
over  German  heads  at  Brussels,  and  then  plumped  down 
on  top  of  the  fallen  garment,  landing  with  its  pointed  satin 


290  SECRET  HISTORY 

nose  poked  under  the  flap  of  a  slightly  gaping  breast 
pocket. 

I  slipped  my  silk-clad  foot  into  the  shoe  where  it  lay, 
and  pushing  the  point  still  further  into  the  pocket,  thus 
lifted  the  coat  on  my  toe  to  give  it  another  disgustful  toss. 
As  I  did  this  it  seemed  that  something  crackled  with  the 
sound — or  the  feel,  I  could  hardly  tell  which — of  stiff 
paper.  Then  a  very  strange  thing  happened  to  me: 
suddenly  I  saw  before  my  eyes,  as  clearly  as  though  it 
were  really  there,  the  khaki-coloured  notebook  I  had  given 
Eagle — the  notebook  out  of  which  he  had  torn  a  leaf  with 
a  message  written  on  it  for  Major  Vandyke. 

I  didn't  know  (I  don't  know  now,  and  never  shall)  what 
painted  this  picture  on  my  brain :  whether  it  was  the  high, 
mysterious  Power  which  had  been  leading  me  slowly  but 
very  surely  to  this  minute,  or  whether  it  was  nothing  more 
than  a  mental  association  between  a  khaki  coat  worn  by 
Eagle's  enemy  on  that  disastrous  night  and  a  faint  crackle 
of  paper  jarring  tensely  on  strung  nerves.  I  know  which 
I  like  to  think;  but  in  either  case  the  effect  was  the  same. 

I  saw  the  notebook.  I  saw  Eagle  hastily  scrawling  his 
appeal  lor  a  written  order  to  fire  the  guns.  I  saw  Major 
Vandyke  wearing  this  coat,  read  the  message,  crumple 
up  the  paper,  and  then — then — the  vision  faded.  But 
the  question  rang  in  my  ears:  what  would  he  be  likely 
to  do  with  the  paper?  What  should  I  have  done  had  I 
been  a  man  in  his  place?  Would  I  have  torn  the  message 
into  bits  and  trusted  to  the  wind  to  scatter  it?  ... 

No!  If  I  meant  to  swear  that  no  such  document  had 
ever  reached  me,  I  should  have  been  afraid  to  leave  bits 
of  khaki-coloured,  blue-lined  paper  lying  about  the  ground. 


SECRET  HISTORY  291 

I  should  have  crumpled  the  message  deep  down  in  the 
bottom  of  a  pocket,  and  burnt  it  later,  when  I  was  safe  in 
my  own  tent.  Yes,  that  was  what  any  man  as  quick 
witted  and  unscrupulous  as  Sidney  Vandyke  would  have 
been  likely  to  do.  He  could  not  possibly  have  forgotten 
such  a  bit  of  evidence  afterward,  and  left  it  in  the  pocket 
of  his  coat  instead  of  destroying  it;  such  things  could  hap 
pen  only  in  the  crudest  melodramas,  where  the  actors 
were  mere  puppets  for  uncritical  and  ignorant  audiences 
to  applaud.  It  was  wildly  absurd  to  dream  that  I  might 
find  any  hidden  treasure  tucked  away  in  a  breast-pocket  of 
Sidney  Vandyke's  cast-off  uniform;  and  I  did  not  for  a 
moment  believe  it;  yet  the  vision  of  the  khaki-coloured 
paper  had  been  so  clear  that  I  dared  not  resist  the  im 
pulse  it  prompted. 

I  picked  up  the  coat,  holding  it  away  from  me  gingerly, 
by  the  collar,  as  a  small  white  cat  might  grip  a  large  brown 
rat  by  the  back  of  its  neck.  Then,  also  gingerly,  I  dipped 
my  fingers  into  one  pocket  after  another.  All  were 
empty:  yet  now  quite  distinctly  I  heard  a  crisp,  delicate 
crackling  of  paper. 

It  was  like  searching  for  a  ghost  and  seeing  no  sign, 
but  catching  a  faint  echo  of  invisible  feet.  Something  was 
hidden  there.  I  could  not  be  mistaken.  Perhaps  the 
thing  when  found  would  not  be  worth  finding;  but  a 
thousand  times  over,  it  was  worth  the  pain  of  looking 
for. 

I  cleared  a  place  on  the  large  table  which  had  been  spread 
with  contributions  for  the  refugees,  and  laid  the  coat  out 
flat.  All  over  the  two  fronts  I  slowly,  carefully,  passed  my 
fingers  until,  between  the  cloth  and  lining,  far  down  on  the 


SECRET  HISTORY 

left  side  near  the  edge  of  the  coat,  I  touched  the  thing  that 
crackled. 

Whatever  it  was,  this  thing  must  have  slipped  down 
through  a  break  in  one  of  the  pockets.  I  explored  again, 
and  discovered  a  small  rip  not  more  than  two  inches  in 
length  at  the  bottom  of  the  inside  breast-pocket.  But  the 
lost  bit  of  paper  could  not  be  got  at  through  this  opening. 
The  lining  of  the  coat  would  have  to  be  slit  down  before 
the  hidden  thing  could  be  reached,  and  I  pulled  the  pocket 
wrong  side  out,  hoping  with  a  quick  jerk  to  tear  it  from 
the  coat.  More  easily  said  than  done !  The  material  was 
expensively  tough,  and  resisted  my  frantic  tuggings,  yet 
I  wouldn't  give  up.  I  dared  not  go  foraging  downstairs  for 
a  pair  of  scissors;  neither  did  I  wish  to  ring  for  a  servant 
to  bring  me  them.  I  wanted  desperately  to  be  alone  with 
this  cast-off  garment  of  Sidney  Vandyke's — alone  with  any 
secret  I  might  force  it  to  yield  up. 

The  coat  seemed  to  resist  every  effort  and  trick  of  mine, 
as  if  it  still  served  its  old  master  and  were  stubbornly  re 
solved  to  protect  him  against  a  stranger's  prying;  but 
at  last  a  sharp  jerk  made  a  stitch  give  way.  After  that 
the  rest  was  easy.  I  wrenched  the  pocket  half  out,  and 
that  once  done  I  was  able  with  both  hands  to  tear  the  lin 
ing  down  nearly  its  whole  length.  Then  I  thrust  my  hand 
between  it  and  the  cloth,  and  touched  a  crumpled  piece 
of  paper. 

I  dreaded  while  I  longed  to  look  at  what  I  had  discovered: 
for  I  realized  that  in  all  human  probability  I  was  about 
to  suffer  a  crushing  disappointment.  This  lost  scrap  of 
paper  might  prove  to  be  part  of  some  torn,  irrelevant  letter 
of  long  ago;  or  it  might  be  an  American  greenback,  or 


SECRET  HISTORY  293 

a  forgotten  memorandum.  As  I  withdrew  my  hand — 
the  paper  in  it — involuntarily  I  shut  my  eyes,  as  if  shrink 
ing  from  a  blow.  But  I  scolded  myself  for  cowardly  weak 
ness,  and  opened  my  eyes  again  to  see  a  folded,  refolded, 
and  crumpled  piece  of  khaki-coloured  paper  ruled  with 
blue  lines.  Then  I  knew  that,  from  the  first  faint  crack 
ling  which  I  had  felt  rather  than  heard,  I  had  been  sure  in 
my  heart  of  finding  this  thing :  sure  that  I  had  always  been 
meant  by  Fate  to  find  it. 

With  cold  and  shaking  fingers  I  cautiously  unfolded  the 
paper  without  tearing  it.  Yes!  It  was  a  leaf  torn  from 
a  notebook — the  khaki  notebook  I  had  given  Eagle.  One 
page  was  blank.  The  other  was  almost  covered  with  writ 
ing,  scribbled  with  blue  pencil,  a  pencil  which  must  have 
been  rather  blunt,  because  the  marking  was  heavy,  though 
it  showed  signs  of  haste.  No  one  familiar  with  Eagle 
March's  hand  could  have  failed  to  recognize  it  as  his, 
rough  and  hurried  as  was  the  scrawl. 

At  the  top  of  the  page  was  jotted  down  the  date  of  that 
unforgettable  night  at  El  Paso. 

"Have  just  received  by  your  orderly  verbal  command 
to  fire  nos.  one  and  two  guns,  aiming  beyond  Mexican 
end  of  bridge.  I  beg  if  this  is  correct  that  you  repeat 
order  in  writing. 

"MARCH." 

Here  was  the  evidence  which  would  have  saved  Eagle  at 
his  court-martial  and  proved  Major  Vandyke  a  liar  and 
blackguard.  He  had,  no  doubt,  crushed  the  incriminating 
paper  into  the  deepest  depths  of  his  breast-pocket,  perhaps 
covering  it  up  with  other  things  lest  it  should  flutter  away 


294  SECRET  HISTORY 

and  betray  him.  There  had  been  no  time  to  destroy  the 
paper  at  that  moment,  and  so  he  had  put  off  disposing  of 
it  until  after  his  famous  rush  across  the  Rio  Grande  had 
been  safely  accomplished.  When  he  returned  and  could  get 
back  to  his  own  tent,  his  first  thought  must  have  been  of 
the  document  whose  existence  he  meant  to  deny.  To 
empty  his  pocket  and  find  the  paper  gone  must  have  been 
a  frightful  blow,  and  Sidney  could  hardly  have  known  a 
peaceful  moment  until  after  the  court-martial,  when  all 
danger  of  the  lost  message  coming  to  light  seemed  to  be 
past  forever. 

No  wonder  (as  Tony  had  written,  describing  the  trial) 
that  the  accuser  had  been  more  worn  and  nerve-shattered 
than  the  accused.  No  wonder  that,  even  when  he  arrived 
in  England,  Sidney  Vandyke  had  looked  changed  and  ill! 
No  wonder  he  had  taken  to  steadying  his  nerves  with 
alcohol,  and  had  not  tried  to  conquer  the  habit! 

By  this  time  he  must  have  ceased  to  dread  the  reappear 
ance  of  the  vanished  document;  but  it  had  reappeared,  and 
it  was  not  too  late  to  be  of  use.  The  small  scrap  of  paper 
in  my  hand  was  big  enough  to  give  me  all  the  power  I  had 
prayed  for — the  power  to  prove  Captain  March's  in 
nocence  and  Major  Vandyke's  guilt. 

"Eagle  said  to-night  that  if  the  time  ever  came  when  he 
could  take  revenge  without  putting  himself  in  the  wrong, 
God  help  Vandyke ! "  I  remembered.  "  We  little  thought 
how  soon  it  would  come.  But  it's  here!  It's  here!  The 
'stone  wall'  has  tumbled  down,  like  the  wall  of  Jericho,  and 
it's  Sidney  Vandyke's  head,  not  Eagle's,  that  will  be 
broken." 

I  was  almost  out  of  my  wits  with  joy.     I  danced  a  war- 


SECRET  HISTORY  295 

dance  of  triumph,  swinging  the  khaki  coat  and  waving  the 
document  over  my  head.  Then,  when  a  wild  whirl  had 
satisfied  my  wish  to  celebrate,  I  refolded  the  bit  of  paper, 
hung  the  coat  over  my  arm,  and  dashed  to  the  door. 
Downstairs  I  plunged,  passed  Diana's  room,  and  had 
reached  the  head  of  the  stairs  leading  to  the  ground  floor 
when  I  actually  bumped  against  Di  coming  up.  If  I  had 
not  stepped  hastily  back  I  should  have  thrown  her  down 
stairs.  As  it  was,  she  caught  at  the  banisters  and  barred 
the  way  against  me. 

The  flashing  glimpse  I  had  caught  of  her  face,  before  we 
almost  telescoped  like  two  trains  running  into  one  another, 
had  shown  it  pale  and  depressed;  but  the  surprise  of  our 
encounter  brought  light  to  her  eyes  and  colour  to  her  cheeks. 
Her  look  changed  from  mere  startled  annoyance  to  puzzled 
suspicion .  ' *  Good  gracious ! ' '  she  exclaimed .  ' '  One  would 
have  thought  the  house  was  on  fire !  Another  instant  and 
you'd  have  knocked  me  down.  What  is  the  matter  with 
you,  Peggy?" 

"I'm  in  a  hurry,  that's  all,"  I  answered. 

"  What  are  you  doing  with  Sidney's  coat  over  your  arm?" 
she  catechized  me  sharply. 

"Didn't  you  know  it  was  among  the  'rubbish'  upstairs 
that  you  were  so  anxious  to  get  rid  of  ? "  I  retorted  in  the 
same  tone. 

"Yes,  I  knew  that;  but  why  do  you  career  downstairs 
with  it  as  if  the  sky  were  falling,  and  leave  everything 
else?  You  shall  tell  me!  I  won't  let  you  go  till  you  do." 

With  the  first  words  she  had  spoken  after  our  collision, 
Di  had  mounted  the  top  step,  though  still  guarding  the 
way  down;  and  with  her  shrill  threat  she  pushed  me  back 


296  SECRET  HISTORY 

from  the  stairhead  by  throwing  herself  against  me  and 
at  the  same  time  grasping  the  coat  as  if  to  snatch  it  off  my 
arm. 

Diana  is  much  taller  and  stronger  than  I  am.  She  could 
take  the  coat  from  me  by  force;  and  the  thought  darted 
through  my  head  that  without  it  to  prove  where  and  how 
the  lost  message  had  been  found,  the  paper  would  lose 
half  its  value.  My  word,  unsupported  by  proof,  would 
not  be  enough  against  Major  Vandyke,  for  it  was  known 
that  I  detested  him,  and  was  a  sworn  friend  to  Captain 
March.  I  must  keep  the  coat  at  any  cost  to  myself — or 
even  to  Diana. 

Standing  at  bay,  looking  up  at  her  white  face  of  anger 
and  suspicion,  I  felt  very  small  and  frail  of  body;  but 
my  soul  gathered  strength  of  battle.  I  clasped  my  bare 
arms  over  the  coat  and  locked  my  fingers  round  my  two 
elbows. 

"This  is  mine,"  I  said.  "You  gave  it  to  me  to  do  as  I 
liked  with.  You've  no  right  to  take  it  away.  I'm  going 
to  make  a  present  of  it  to  somebody  who's  been  robbed  of 
everything,  and  needs  it." 

This  was  the  best  explanation  I  could  think  of.  But  it 
was  not  good  enough  for  Diana.  She  attempted  to  push 
me  farther  back,  and  I  resisted,  trying  to  wriggle  myself 
free  and  elude  her;  but  she  was  on  the  alert,  and  too  quick 
as  well  as  too  strong  for  my  trick  to  succeed. 

"No,  you  shan't  slip  away  like  that,  you  little  wild 
cat!"  she  cried,  beginning  to  pant  slightly.  In  the  white 
light  of  the  electric  candelabra,  which  made  the  corridor 
bright  as  day,  I  saw  her  beautiful  bosom  heave  under  its 
double  rope  of  creamy  pearls.  All  the  charming  softness 


SECRET  HISTORY  297 

which  men  loved  was  gone  from  her  face.  It  looked  hard 
and  cruel. 

Just  as  I  meant  to  escape  at  any  price,  so  she  meant  at 
any  price  to  keep  me.  I  guessed  that  she  had  come  home 
alone,  and  let  herself  in  with  a  latch-key,  for  apparently 
there  were  no  servants  about.  That  was  fortunate  for 
me;  and  fortunate  that  Father  and  Kitty,  and  above  all 
Sidney,  had  gone  on  somewhere  else  from  the  Russian  Em 
bassy,  for  there  would  have  been  very  little  chance  for  me 
if  I  had  had  to  run  the  gauntlet. 

"You  hate  Sidney.  I  believe  you  hate  me,  too!"  she 
went  on  when  she  had  got  her  breath.  "  I  don't  trust  any 
thing  you  say  or  do.  You've  some  horrid  idea  in  your 
head.  I  read  that  in  your  face  the  instant  I  saw  you  here. 
You  mean  mischief.  What's  in  your  mind  I  don't  know, 
but  I  shall  know!  You'd  better  tell  me!" 

"  I've  told  you  all  I  have  to  tell,"  I  said.  "  If  I'm  a  wild 
cat,  you're  a  tigress.  What  will  the  servants  think  if  they 
come  and  see  you  like  this?" 

"  I  don't  care  what  they  think.  And  besides,  they  won't 
come.  I've  changed  my  mind  about  giving  you  that 
coat.  I  must  ask  Sidney  first  if  he  wants  to  keep  it  for 
any  reason.  I'll  let  you  know  to-morrow." 

"To-morrow  will  be  too  late.  I've  to  see  my  man  to 
night." 

"  Why  are  you  taking  him  the  coat,  and  not  the  rest  of 
the  suit?"  she  persisted. 

"  It's  only  the  coat  that  will  be  of  use  to  him. "  I  had  the 
answer  ready. 

Without  warning  she  made  another  dive  at  the  coat  to 
catch  me  unawares.  She  failed  and  my  hold  tightened; 


298  SECRET  HISTORY 

but  the  sudden  wrench  twisted  the  thing  partly  wrong 
side  out,  to  show  the  lining.  The  cry  Diana  gave,  the 
horror  that  flashed  in  lightning  from  her  eyes,  told  me 
what  she  had  seen,  what  she  must  have  guessed. 

"My  God,  Peggy!"  she  gasped.  "You  believe  that  of 
him?  You  were  seeking  for — but  you  found  nothing. 
Of  course — of  course  you  found  nothing!" 

"There's  nothing  there  now,"  I  said,  trying  not  to  let 
my  voice  tremble. 

Diana's  eyes  searched  mine.  They  were  dilated.  Her 
face,  and  even  her  lips — always  coral  red — were  sickly  pale. 
"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked  in  a  low,  choked  voice. 
"Do  you  mean  that  you  did  find — oh!  I  see  now — the 
whole  disgraceful  thing!  You  were  taking  this  coat  to 
Eagle  March.  You  traitor!  I  thank  God  I  came  in 
time." 

She  seized  me  by  both  shoulders.  Her  white  hands, 
with  their  rose-pink  nails  and  little  round  dimples  at  the 
finger  roots,  felt  hard  and  remorseless  as  steel  claws.  She 
looked  suddenly  capable  of  anything.  The  thought  struck 
on  my  heart  like  a  hammer-stroke  that  she  would  stop  at 
nothing  to  save  Sidney's  reputation.  For  the  first  time,  I 
was  afraid  for  myself.  I  was  afraid  she  would  be  too  strong 
for  me.  She  would  push  me  along  the  corridor  and  through 
the  open  door  into  her  room.  If  I  screamed  she  would  tell 
the  servants  I  had  gone  mad.  She  would  get  the  coat  away 
from  me.  She  would  find  the  paper,  if  she  had  to  tear  my 
clothes  off  to  do  it.  Once  inside  the  room,  she  would  have 
all  the  advantage  if  she  could  turn  the  key  and  lock  us  in 
together.  I,  too,  was  in  a  mood  to  stop  at  nothing.  I  was 
fighting  for  the  man  I  loved.  She  was  fighting  merely  for  a 


SECRET  HISTORY  299 

man  with  whom  her  fate  was  bound  up ;  but  in  strength  of 
body  I  was  no  match  for  her.  It  was  only  in  a  battle  of 
wits  that  I  might  have  a  fair  chance.  But  on  the  other  side 
of  her  door  it  would  be  too  late  to  use  my  brains. 

"It's  now  or  never!"  I  thought. 

Clutching  the  coat  for  dear  life  with  one  hand,  with  the 
other  I  snatched  at  the  pearls  which  were  the  "immediate 
jewels  "  of  my  sister's  soul.  I  gave  the  double  rope  a  sharp 
jerk,  and  with  a  snap  the  string  yielded.  Pearls  spouted  in 
all  directions  like  a  creamy  spray,  and  with  a  cry,  involun 
tarily  Diana  loosened  her  hold  on  me  to  save  them.  That 
was  my  chance !  I  ducked  under  her  arms  and  dashed  down 
stairs — like  a  streak  of  lightning.  Before  Diana  had  run 
halfway  down  I  was  at  the  door.  For  an  instant  I  fum 
bled  in  an  anguish  of  suspense  at  the  catch.  Then  it 
yielded.  I  slammed  the  door  in  Di's  face,  and  bare- 
shouldered  as  I  was  (I  had  taken  off  my  wrap  to  do  the 
packing)  I  ran  like  a  rabbit  after  a  taxi  I  saw  at  a  little 
distance. 

"Taxi,  taxi!"  I  called.  And  though  my  lips  were  dry 
and  my  voice  seemed  to  my  own  ears  almost  inaudible,  as 
when  one  tries  to  scream  in  a  nightmare,  the  man  heard  and 
stopped.  Luckily  the  taxi  was  empty.  If  it  had  not  been 
things  might  have  ended  differently;  for  as  I  scrambled  in, 
panting,  "Quick,  number  21a  Whitehall  Court!"  I  saw, 
with  one  corner  of  my  eye,  that  Diana  stood  in  the  doorway 
looking  out. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A  THE  taxi  sped  away  with  me,  the  relief  was  so 
great  that  I  lay  back  on  the  seat,  limp  and  half 
fainting.  I  let  myself  rest  there,  revelling  in  safety 
after  the  strain  of  danger.  Nothing  could  keep  me  now 
from  Eagle,  I  told  myself,  and  nothing  could  stand  between 
him  and  his  righteous  revenge  on  Sidney  Vandyke.  If  he 
were  not  at  home  when  I  got  to  Whitehall  Court  I  would 
wait  until  he  came,  even  if  I  had  to  sit  in  the  taxi,  within 
sight  of  his  door,  all  night.  But  he  would  be  at  home !  I 
felt  that,  when  he  left  the  Russian  Embassy,  he  had  been  in 
no  mood  to  go  anywhere  else,  unless  for  a  lonely  walk;  and, 
even  so,  he  ought  to  have  got  back  by  this  time.  He  had  left 
before  I  had,  and  I  must  have  arrived  at  Diana's  an  hour  ago. 

It  was  only  when  the  taxi  drew  up  in  Whitehall  Court 
that  I  remembered  leaving  my  little  gold  bag — a  present 
from  Kitty — with  my  discarded  cloak  in  Park  Lane.  All 
the  money  I  had  was  in  the  bag.  I  could  not  pay  the 
chauffeur;  but,  in  any  case,  I  meant  to  keep  him  till  I 
learned  whether  or  no  Eagle  were  at  home. 

To  my  chagrin,  the  man  looked  dubious.  "How  long, 
Miss,  will  you  want  me  to  wait?  "  he  inquired. 

I  explained  that  I  could  not  tell  yet.  I  must  find  out 
whether  the  friend  I  had  come  to  see  were  in.  If  not  I 
might  need  to  keep  the  taxi  a  long  time. 

"Very  sorry,  Miss,"  the  chauffeur  replied,  "but  I  have 

300 


SECRET  HISTORY  301 

an  appointment  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  from  now  in  Down 
ing  Street  with  an  official  gentleman  I  serve  pretty  often.  I 
was  on  the  way  there  when  you  called  me;  but  when  you 
said  *  Whitehall  Court/  I  took  you  up  because  you  seemed 
in  a  hurry  and  I  thought  there  was  plenty  of  time.  I  sup 
posed  you  was  going  to  stop  here,  it  bein'  rather  late  in  the 
night  for  a  young  lady,  but  I  can't  possibly  stay  rnore'n 
five  minutes  longer.  Tell  you  what  I  can  do,  I'll  ask 
another  feller  to  come  along  and  wait  for  you." 

There  was  no  help  for  it.  I  had  to  confess  that  I  was 
penniless,  having  forgotten  my  money.  "But  here's  a 
bangle,"  I  said,  slipping  my  one  bit  of  jewellery  off  my  arm. 
"You  can  have  this  for  security.  If  you'll  give  me  your 
card  I'll  send  the  money  to-morrow,  and  I'll  trust  you  to 
send  back  the  bangle." 

I  held  it  out  to  him :  a  thin  band  of  gold  with  a  four-leaved 
shamrock  made  of  emeralds — a  present  from  Tony,  which 
he  had  implored  me  to  keep  in  memory  of  our  "friendship." 

The  chauffeur  hesitated,  evidently  asking  himself 
whether  or  no  I  might  be  trusted  without  the  security.  As 
he  turned  the  bangle  over  in  his  hand,  and  the  question  in 
his  mind,  I  heard  quick  steps  coming  along  the  dark  street, 
and  looking  up,  the  taxi  lights  showed  me  Eagle  March's 
face.  He  was  far  more  surprised  than  I  was,  because  it  had 
already  occurred  to  me  that  he  might  cool  his  brain  with  a 
solitary  stroll  in  the  night. 

"Oh,  Eagle!"  I  exclaimed,  giving  him  hardly  time  to  be 
sure  of  recognition.  "How  thankful  I  am  that  you  ap 
peared  just  at  the  right  minute.  I've  come  to  see  you 
about  something  very  important,  and  I  haven't  a  penny." 

No  doubt  Eagle  was  astonished  that  I  should  be  arriving 


302  SECRET  HISTORY 

alone,  cloakless,  at  half-past  eleven  or  later  to  call  upon 
him;  but  after  the  first  look  of  amazement  at  sight  of  me, 
he  concealed  his  feelings.  For  a  second — no  longer — he 
hesitated.  Then  he  said,  smiling,  "I  have  plenty  of  pennies! 
Don't  you  think  I'd  better  get  into  your  taxi  with  you,  and 
drive  round  for  a  few  minutes  rather  than  you  should — have 
the  trouble  of  coming  into  my  place?" 

"The  driver  has  an  engagement,"  I  said.  "And,  any 
how,  I  must  come  in.  It's  really  serious,  Eagle." 

He  argued  no  more,  though  he  looked  somewhat  troubled 
for  my  sake.  I  understood  very  well  his  state  of  mind. 
He  paid  and  tipped  the  chauffeur,  who  handed  back  my 
bangle  and  darted  off. 

"Were  you  going  to  give  the  fellow  that?"  Eagle  asked, 
nodding  at  the  gold  band.  "Then  it  must  indeed  be 
serious.  I  once  heard  you  say  at  El  Paso  that  it  was  your 
most  valued  possession!" 

"Fancy  your  remembering!"  I  said. 

"I  remember  lots  of  things  concerning  you,"  he  answered, 
as  he  guided  me  into  the  big,  dignified  building  whose  lights 
were  lowered  like  most  of  London's  illuminations  in  these 
Zeppelin-haunted  times. 

"Wish  the  bangle  on  for  me,"  I  said  hastily,  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs,  which  we  were  to  ascend  rather  than  expose 
my  uncovered  shoulders  to  the  scandalized  eyes  of  the  man 
in  the  lift. 

"Would  Dalziel  approve?  "  he  asked,  smiling,  as  I  thrust 
the  bangle  into  his  hand.  "You  showed  it  to  me  in  Texas 
as  a  'filopena  present'  from  Tony." 

"You  remember  that,  too?  This  is  the  one  thing  I've 
kept  to  remind  me  of  poor  Tony." 


SECRET  HISTORY  303 

"Poor  Tony,  indeed,  if  you've  sent  him  about  his 
business." 

Eagle  slipped  the  bangle  over  my  hand,  looking  straight 
at  me,  as  though  wondering  not  only  why  I  had  come,  but 
why  I  was  so  pale  and  strange. 

"Wish  that  my  errand  here  to-night  may  end  in  the 
greatest  and  most  glorious  success,"  I  prompted  him. 

He  held  my  wrist  for  a  second  or  two,  wishing  silently. 
Then  he  dropped  it  rather  abruptly,  and  we  went  upstairs 
to  the  first  floor,  where  were  the  chambers  lent  to  Eagle  by 
his  friend.  I  felt  somehow  that,  by  asking  him  for  such  a 
wish,  I  had  impressed  him  with  the  real  importance  of  my 
night  visit. 

He  unlocked  the  door  of  the  flat  with  a  latch-key  and  al 
most  pushed  me  in,  as  if  fearing  that  I  might  be  seen  and 
perhaps  recognized  by  some  passing  occupant  of  the  house. 
Switching  on  the  electricity,  the  vestibule  was  lit  by  a  red- 
shaded  light,  cheerfully  welcoming.  Off  it  opened  two  or 
three  rooms,  and  Eagle  ushered  me  into  a  large  oak- 
panelled  study,  lined  with  bookshelves  and  having  long 
windows,  which,  when  uncurtained,  would  look  out  on  the 
Embankment.  Now  they  were  draped  with  crimson  velvet, 
the  sort  of  hangings  that  normal  men  with  no  female 
belongings  invariably  choose.  By  the  door  stood  a  tall 
folding  screen,  covered  with  red  satin  and  oriental  em 
broidery.  There  were  bronzes  and  a  few  marble  busts  on 
top  of  the  low  bookshelves;  on  the  oak  panelling,  here  and 
there,  hung  a  huge  Chinese  plate,  here  and  there  a  sporting 
picture.  With  one  glance  I  took  in  the  whole  interior,  and 
saw  that  it  was  thoroughly  masculine.  In  a  large  fire 
place  some  logs  of  wood,  evidently  not  long  ago  ignited, 


304  SECRET  HISTORY 

were  crackling.  Suddenly  aware  that  I  was  very  cold,  I 
walked  across  the  room  and — shivering — held  out  my 
hands  to  the  blaze.  But  I  still  kept  the  khaki  coat  hanging 
over  my  arm. 

"  Poor  child,  you  look  frozen ! "  said  Eagle.  "  Why  didn't 
you  put  on  your  coat?  " 

I  laughed — a  nervous,  excited  laugh.  "My  coat!"  I 
echoed.  "Look  at  it!" 

So  saying,  I  stretched  out  my  arm  to  display  the  garment, 
and  Eagle  saw  what  it  was. 

"Khaki  uniform!"  he  exclaimed.  "From  the  U.  S.  A. 
By  Jove !  Is  it  Tony  Dalziel's?  " 

"Indeed  it  is  not,"  I  returned.  "I'm  here  to  tell  you 
about  it.  Oh,  Eagle,  what  should  I  have  done  if  you  hadn't 
come  home?" 

"You  oughtn't  to  be  here,  dear  Peggy,"  he  said.  "And 
I'm  not  sure  that  I  ought  to  have  brought  you  in,  but  I've 
got  into  the  habit  of  trusting  you  when  you  tell  me  that  a 
thing's  important." 

"It  is  important,"  I  cut  him  short.  "So  important  I 
hardly  know  where  to  begin." 

"Your  wits  are  too  quick  for  you  to  be  in  doubt  long," 
Eagle  flattered  me,  smiling;  "and  you  must  begin  at  once, 
dear  child,  because  for  the  sake  of  all  the  conventionalities 
I  can't  let  you  make  me  a  long  call,  good  as  it  is  to  see  you 
here.  We  are  alone  in  the  place  now,  so  it's  all  right  for  the 
moment.  The  servant  my  friend  Jim  White  lends  me  with 
the  rooms  doesn't  stay  at  night.  He  lights  the  fire  and  puts 
everything  shipshape,  and  then  leaves  me  in  peace  till 
morning.  But  Jim  himself,  who  is  doing  interpreter's 
work  in  France,  has  run  back  for  the  day  on  business.  He 


SECRET  HISTORY  305 

is  with  some  War  Office  chaps  for  the  evening,  but  any  time 
after  twelve  o'clock  I  expect  him  back  to  stay  the  night. 
You  must  be  gone  before  then,  so  you  see  we  have  twenty 
minutes  at  most/* 

"Rome  was  saved  in  one  minute,  I've  always  heard,"  I 
said.  "Eagle,  this  coat  was  Sidney  Vandyke's.  It's  mine 
now,  because  Diana  gave  it  to  me,  with  a  lot  of  other  things 
they  cared  nothing  about,  for  our  Belgian  men.  They 
didn't  know  God  was  delivering  them  into  my  hands — and 
your  hands.  For  I  give  this  to  you  to  do  with  as  you  will. 
It  is  the  coat  Major  Vandyke  wore  the  night  at  El  Paso 
when  he  was  in  temporary  command.  He  wore  it  when 
his  orderly,  Johnson,  brought  him  the  message  you  wrote 
on  a  leaf  out  of  your  notebook — the  message  he  swore 
never  reached  him." 

As  I  spoke  I  held  out  the  coat  in  both  hands,  with  the  in 
side  toward  Eagle,  so  that  he  could  see  for  himself  the  hole 
I  had  made  in  the  lining,  and  perhaps  draw  his  own  con 
clusions.  I  saw  his  eyes  fix  themselves  on  the  long,  tell 
tale  slit  and  the  colour  rush  up  to  his  forehead. 

"Who  tore  that  slit  in  the  lining?  "  he  asked  sharply. 

"I  tore  it  to-night!" 

"Peggy!     .     .     .     You  found  something?" 

"Yes!  It  had  slipped  through  a  ripped  place  down  be 
tween  the  cloth  and  the  lining." 

"Good  God!     The  message  ?" 

"The  message!  Here  it  is."  And  from  the  bosom  of 
my  low  dress  I  pulled  the  folded  bit  of  khaki-yellow  paper, 
warm  from  my  heart.  He  took  it  from  me.  Our  fingers 
touched,  and  his  were  cold  as  ice. 

I  stood  still  while  he  opened  the  paper  and  read  the 


306  SECRET  HISTORY 

words  which  wrere  of  as  great  importance  in  his  life  now  as 
when  he  wrote  them.  They  had  power  to  make  all  the  dif 
ference  to  him  and  to  another  man  between  honour  and  dis 
honour. 

For  a  long  minute  he  was  silent  and  motionless,  reading 
or  thinking.  Then  he  looked  up  abruptly,  and  his  eyes 
blazed  into  mine. 

"Peggy!"  he  said  in  a  level,  monotonous  tone  which  I 
knew  hid  deep  feeling.  "Do  you  realize  what  this  means 
tome?" 

"Yes,"  I  answered.  " I  realize  fully.  I've  dreamed  of  a 
moment  like  this  for  you.  I've  lived  for  it,  for  weeks  and 
months  that  seem  like  years." 

"And  that  it  should  come  to  me  from  you!" 

"I  hoped— I  prayed." 

"Tell  me  what  happened." 

I  told  him,  only  leaving  out  the  part  about  Diana,  how 
she  had  come  home  and  guessed  the  secret  I  had  found 
and  tried  to  rob  me.  To  mention  that,  I  thought,  might 
seem  as  if  I  were  trying  to  boast  of  what  I  had  done. 
Then,  when  I  had  explained  how  I  dashed  out  of  the  house, 
leaving  everything  but  the  coat,  which  would  be  invalu 
able  as  proof,  I  hurried  on,  lest  he  should  ask  questions  I 
didn't  wish  to  answer. 

"What  has  become  of  the  notebook?  "  I  wanted  to  know. 
"I  hope  you've  got  it?" 

"Better  than  that,"  Eagle  said.  "If  I'd  had  it  in  my 
possession  all  this  time  I  might  have  written  this  message 
whenever  I  chose,  torn  out  the  leaf,  and  pretended  that  it 
had  been  done  on  the  night  of  the  gunfiring.  Luckily  Dell, 
the  friend  who  defended  me  in  my  trial,  kept  the  book.  It 


SECRET  HISTORY  307 

was  produced  at  the  court-martial  in  my  defence,  and  the 
torn  edge  shown,  with  the  marks  on  the  next  page  made 
by  pressing  down  heavily  with  a  blunt  pencil.  Vague 
traces  of  words  could  be  seen,  but  even  with  a  magnifying 
glass  they  couldn't  be  read.  There  was  no  evidence  that 
amounted  to  anything,  but  my  friend  kept  the  book.  He 
said  it  might  be  of  use  some  day.  I  had  no  such  hope,  but 
now — my  God,  Peggy,  with  that  coat  and  your  story,  the 
case  against  Vandyke  seems  to  me  complete!" 

"How  thankful  I  am  to  hear  you  say  that!"  I  almost 
sobbed,  moved  by  his  excitement  to  greater  excitement  of 
my  own.  "I  felt  it  must  be  so;  but  I'm  only  a  girl.  I 
didn't  know.  I  couldn't  be  sure.  Oh,  Eagle!  You'll 
never  understand  what  it  is  to  me  to  think  I've  been  able 
to  help  you,  even  a  little.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  me  the 
dreadful  thing  would  never  have  happened.  You'd  still 
be  just  what  you  were  before  we  met." 

"You've  not  helped  me  a  *  little';  you've  given  me  new 
life,"  he  said.  "Some  time  I'll  tell  you,  maybe,  why  I'd 
rather  have  the  gift  from  you  than  any  one  else.  But  I 
can't  understand  what  you  mean  by  saying  'the  thing 
would  never  have  happened'  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you." 

"If  I  hadn't  wanted  a  new  dress,  and  if  I  hadn't  gone 
to  Wardour  Street  to  sell  my  lace  and  make  money  to 
buy  the  frock,  we  should  never  have  known  each  other. 
You  wouldn't  have  seen  Diana;  we  shouldn't  have  gone 
to  America,  and  if  we  hadn't  gone  to  America,  and  met 
Major  Vandyke,  those  guns  would  never  have  been  fired, 
and  heaps  of  official  bother  would  have  been  saved.  But 
far  the  best  of  all,  you  would  have  been  as  happy  as  ever!" 

"You  might  as  well  blame  yourself  for  being  born," 


308  SECRET  HISTORY 

said  Eagle;  "and  on  my  soul,  I  tell  you,  Peggy,  that  even 
without  the  new  hope  you've  given  me  to-night,  I  wouldn't 
go  back  if  I  could  choose,  and  be  without  my  experience 
in  Belgium,  or — or  without  you  in  my  life." 

He  held  out  his  hands  for  mine,  and  I  gave  them  to  a 
grasp  that  hurt.  Something  he  was  about  to  say;  but 
before  he  had  time  to  speak  there  came  a  long  shrill  peal 
of  the  electric  bell. 

Eagle  dropped  my  hands  instantly.  "By  Jove!  It 
must  be  Jim.  He's  forgotten  his  key!  I  don't  want  him 
to  see  you,  Peggy.  He's  a  very  good  fellow,  but  a  rattle 
brain — tells  everything  he  knows.  Run  behind  that  red 
screen,  and  when  I've  got  him  into  his  own  room,  which 
I'll  do  somehow  in  a  few  minutes,  I'll  take  you  to  a  taxi, 
and  drive  home  with  you  if  it  can  be  managed." 

I  whisked  behind  the  screen,  peeping  out  to  whisper: 
"Better  hide  the  khaki  coat  if  you  don't  want  questions!" 

Eagle  took  my  advice,  handing  me  the  coat  to  keep  for 
him  as  he  passed  on  his  way  to  the  door.  There  was 
plenty  of  room  to  stand  behind  the  screen  without  flatten 
ing  myself  against  the  wall.  And  without  danger  of  being 
seen  I  could  look  through  the  interstices  between  the  leaves 
of  the  screen  into  the  brightly  lighted  room. 

I  heard  Eagle's  footsteps  on  the  parquet  floor  of  the 
vestibule.  I  heard  the  click  of  the  latch  as  he  opened  the 
door.  After  that,  instead  of  a  loud,  jolly  greeting  from 
his  friend,  there  was  dead  silence  for  an  instant.  Then  a 
woman's  voice  spoke  in  a  low  tone  of  intense  and  passionate 
eagerness.  I  had  never  heard  it  speak  in  that  tone  before. 
But  with  a  shock  of  surprise  and  fear,  I  recognized  the 
voice:  it  was  Diana's. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

MY  HEART  stood  still.  Thinking  calmly,  it 
seemed  that  Diana  had  no  power  to  harm  Eagle 
March.  I  had  the  coat  which  betrayed  Sidney. 
Eagle  had  the  written  message,  and  his  friend  in  America 
had  the  notebook  out  of  which  it  had  been  torn.  The 
chain  of  our  evidence  was  complete.  It  could  not  be 
broken.  Eagle  had  long  ago  seen  through  Diana  and 
ceased  to  worship  her.  Surely  she  could  do  nothing  with 
him  now,  no  matter  how  shamefully  she  might  humble  her 
self.  But  I  could  not  think  calmly.  And  as  I  heard  her 
sweet,  imploring  voice,  begging  to  come  in,  as  I  realized 
that  Eagle  could  not  shut  her  out,  a  heavy  presentiment 
of  failure  weighed  upon  me.  I  braced  myself  to  be  ready 
for  anything  that  might  happen,  ready  to  spring  from  be 
hind  the  screen  and  confront  Diana  if  need  came. 

"If  you  ever  cared  for  me,  if  you  have  any  pity  for  an 
unhappy  woman,  let  me  in — let  me  speak  to  you,"  were 
the  words  I  heard  her  say,  in  a  voice  like  the  wail  of  harp- 
strings.  Its  pathos  would  have  been  irresistible  to  any 
man,  even  if  he  had  never  loved  her.  Eagle  March  let 
Diana  come  in,  though  I  heard  him  protesting  that  his 
friend  Jim  White  might  arrive  at  any  moment. 

"What  does  it  matter?"  she  cried;  and  with  the  words 
she  was  at  the  study  door.  Through  the  leaves  of  the 
tall  screen  I  saw  her  trail  in,  a  figure  of  beauty  in  her  white 

309 


310  SECRET  HISTORY 

satin  dress  and  sombre  purple  cloak,  her  dark  hair  wreathed 
with  a  fillet  of  emerald  laurel  leaves  that  gave  her  face 
the  look  of  some  tragic  muse  of  long  ago.  "I  know  Jim 
White,"  she  hurried  on,  "and  he  knows  me  well  enough  to 
be  sure  I'm  here  for  nothing  wrong!  I'm  not  afraid  of 
him.  It's  you  I'm  afraid  of,  Eagle!" 

She  stopped,  and  faced  him.  Unknowingly  she  faced 
me,  too.  Eagle's  back  was  turned  toward  me,  but  I  could 
see  Diana's  blue  eyes  gazing  up  at  him.  They  were  sad 
and  beautiful  beyond  words.  With  a  shiver  of  fear,  I 
realized  that  no  woman  on  earth  could  be  lovelier  than  my 
sister.  All  womanhood,  with  its  appeal  to  man,  was  in  her 
great  imploring  eyes. 

I  was  glad  that  Eagle  did  not  answer.  I  hoped  his  silence 
might  mean  that  her  beauty  had  lost  its  magic  for  him,  that 
he  understood  fully  how  she  had  come  to  beguile  him,  and 
that  he  meant  to  give  her  no  opening. 

"This  is  the  first  time  I  have  seen  you  since — since  that 
night  at  Alvarado  when  you  bade  me  'good-bye,' "  she  wenf 
on,  letting  her  voice  break  into  a  half -stifled  sob. 

"You  saw  me  at  the  Embassy,"  he  answered,  so  coldly 
that,  in  her  place,  I  should  have  beeen  chilled  with  dis 
couragement. 

"I  dared  not  look  at  you  there,"  she  confessed.  "I  was 
afraid  of — myself.  Oh,  Eagle!  I'm  even  more  afraid  of 
you  now — more  afraid  than  of  myself!" 

"Really,  I  am  not  so  very  formidable,  Lady  Diana," 
said  Eagle,  with  cool  scorn  that  showed  in  tone  and  man 
ner.  "But  if  I  may  ask — since  you  stand  in  such  dread 
of  me,  why  do  you  come  to  beard  the  lion  in  his  den?  " 

"  Because  the  lion  is  brave  and  kingly  I  have  ventured.   I 


SECRET  HISTORY  311 

had  to  come,  Eagle.  There  was  no  other  way.  I  found  out 
your  address  from  your  Russian  friend,  Major  Skobeleff. 
He  happened  to  mention  it,  asking  me  if  I  knew  Jim  White 
who'd  lent  the  place  to  you.  I  didn't  guess  then  how  thank 
ful  I'd  soon  be  to  know  where  you  lived.  Oh,  Eagle! 
Don't  look  at  me  so  cruelly!  I  can't  bear  it.  You  hate 
me,  but  you  mustn't  judge.  If  you  knew  everything, 
you'd  see  that  you'd  done  me  a  wrong." 

"I  should  be  sorry  to  think  that,"  said  Eagle,  as  formally 
as  if  he  spoke  to  a  stranger.  "And  you  are  mistaken  if  you 
really  suppose  I  hate  you.  I  have  gone  through  a  good 
deal  lately,  Lady  Diana,  and  learned  to  see  personal  things 
in  the  right  proportion.  Let  me  assure  you,  my  feelings 
toward  you  are  not  in  the  least  malevolent." 

"You  mean  you  don't  care  for  me  any  more?  I  ought  to 
be  glad,  for  your  sake  and  mine,  too.  But  I  did  love  you, 
Eagle.  I  truly  did,  only — I  was  a  coward.  I  was  deceived, 
as  other  people  were  deceived.  And  I  had  Father  to  think 
of  as  well  as  myself." 

"  Don't  excuse  yourself  to  me,  I  beg !  All  that  is  past  and 
done  with.  You  didn't  come  here  I'm  sure  to " 

"Ah!  If  the  past  could  be  done  with!  It  can't,  and 
that  is  why  I  have  come.  I  know  Peggy  has  been  with  you. 
It's  useless  to  tell  me  she  has  not." 

"I've  no  intention  of  telling  you  a  lie,  Lady  Diana." 

Di  broke  down,  and  cried  without  any  effort  to  restrain 
herself.  She  did  not  look  quite  her  beautiful  self  when  she 
cried,  but  she  looked  a  hundred  times  more  pathetic. 
"You  won't  believe  me,  I  suppose,"  she  sobbed,  "but  till 
to-night  I  never  knew — knew  that  Sidney  had  deceived  me. 
I  believed  what  he  told  me  to  believe.  It  is  an  awful  blow ! 


312  SECRET  HISTORY 

I  think — my  heart  is  broken.  But,  oh,  God,  Eagle,  if  you 
ruin  him  before  the  world  it  will  be  my  death ! " 

To  my  astonishment  Eagle  answered  with  a  laugh — a 
laugh  of  exceeding  bitterness. 

"You  seem  to  believe  and  disbelieve  easily,  Lady  Diana 
Vandyke!"  he  said.  "Once  you  believed  in  me.  Then 
you  ceased  to  believe  in  me  and  threw  me  over  because  an 
other  man — a  richer  man  than  I — told  you  and  everybody 
else  that  I  was  a  liar.  You  believed  in  him  instead — on  his 
mere  word.  You  married  him.  May  I  ask  if  he  has  con 
fessed  to  you,  or  do  you  take  his  guilt  for  granted  as  you 
took  mine,  on  circumstantial  evidence?" 

"No,  he  has  not  confessed  anything,"  Di  answered.  Yet 
there  was  something  in  her  tone  and  confused,  anxious 
manner  that  made  me  sure  she  was  not  telling  the  truth. 
The  conviction  swept  over  me  that  something  had  hap 
pened  at  the  house  in  Park  Lane  since  I  slammed  the  front 
door  and  ran  out.  Diana  might  have  thought  twice  before 
coming  to  grovel  here  to  Eagle,  unless  she  had  been  sure 
that  I  was  not  jumping  to  conclusions — sure  that  there 
could  be  no  possible  mistake  about  what  I  had  found  in 
Sidney's  coat.  Suddenly  I  knew  as  well  as  if  she  had  put 
the  story  into  words  that  Sidney  had  come  home  before  she 
had  made  up  her  mind  what  to  do;  that  she  had  told  him 
about  the  coat,  and  that  I  had  carried  it  off  to  Eagle  March ; 
that  Sidney,  knowing  well  what  my  discovery  must  have 
been,  had  broken  down  and  sent  Diana  to  Eagle,  in  the 
one  last  hope  that  her  pleading  might  save  him  from  his 
enemy's  revenge. 

"  I  haven't  seen  Sidney,"  she  hurried  on.  "  But — instinct 
tells  me  some  things.  I'm  afraid — I  know  that  his  loving 


SECRET  HISTORY  313 

me  so  much  made  him  cruel  to  you.  Oh,  don't  look  at  me 
like  that.  You  turn  me  to  ice.  It's  true — 'cruel'  isn't  a 
hard  enough  word  for  what  he  did.  I  don't  try  to  excuse 
him.  But  he  sinned  for  my  sake.  That  softens  my  heart 
toward  him.  I'm  human ! " 

"I'm  not  inhuman,  I  trust,"  said  Eagle,  "but  it  doesn't 
soften  my  heart  toward  him." 

"I  don't  ask  that,"  Diana  wept.  "All  I  ask  is  your 
forgiveness  for  me — that  you  soften  your  heart  for  me!" 

"I  forgive  you  freely,  Lady  Diana,"  Eagle  answered, 
"for  any  injury  you  may  have  done  me  in  the  past,  for  I 
have  lived  it  down.  The  injury  Vandyke  did  me,  I  thought 
— till  to-night — I  could  never  live  down.  But  thanks  to 
the  most  loyal  friend  a  man  ever  had  I've  been  given  my 
chance." 

Diana  flung  up  her  head,  and  there  were  no  tears  in  her 
eyes.  "  Peggy  a  loyal  friend ! "  she  cried.  "  She's  a  traitor 
to  Father  and  me  when  she  betrays  Sidney.  What  right 
has  she  to  be  loyal  to  you  at  our  expense?  And  it  isn't 
loyalty,  not  what  you  mean  by  loyalty.  She  has  always 
hated  Sidney  for  your  sake,  and  now  she  can  calmly  see  him 
ruined,  not  because  of  any  wish  for  justice,  but  simply  be 
cause  she's  desperately,  idiotically  in  love  with  you;  be 
cause  she'd  do  anything — no  matter  how  cruel  to  others — in 
the  hope  of  winning  you  for  herself.  Now  you  know  the  real 
truth  about  Peggy." 

"I  wish  I  could  think  it  were  the  real  truth,"  said  Eagle 
very  quietly  and  very  slowly.  "To  have  Peggy's  love 
would  be  the  best  thing  in  the  world.  I've  realized  that 
for  some  time  now — while  I  was  under  arrest  before  my 
court-martial  and  had  plenty  of  time  to  think.  That 


314  SECRET  HISTORY 

was  the  time  it  was  borne  in  on  me,  Lady  Diana,  just  how 
much  difference  there  is  between  you  and  Peggy." 

Diana  stood  speechless,  staring  at  him. 

I  was  afraid  the  two  out  there  might  hear  my  heart 
beats,  they  sounded  so  loudly  in  my  own  ears. 

"  I  realized  how  foolish  I'd  been,  not  to  see  that  difference 
before,"  Eagle  went  on,  still  speaking  with  a  deliberate  dis 
tinctness,  as  if  he  were  willing  I  should  catch  every  word. 

That  he  should  be  saying  such  things  to  Diana  was  so 
wonderful,  so  almost  incredible,  that  I  asked  myself  if  he 
were  saying  them  only  to  save  my  pride  because  Di  had 
snatched  my  love  for  him  out  of  hiding  and  trailed  it  in 
the  dust  at  his  feet.  "I  ought  to  have  loved  Peggy  al 
most  as  much  as  I  love  her  now,  the  very  day  we  met  first- 
I  ought  to  have  felt  she  was  the  one  woman — the  one  thing 
in  the  world  for  me.  But  she  looked  such  a  child!  It 
would  have  seemed  like  sacrilege  to  love  her  as  a  man  loves 
a  woman — that  little  sprite  of  a  creature.  And  then  I  met 
you.  You  dazzled  me,  Lady  Diana.  That's  the  word  for 
it.  I  think  no  other  would  fit.  But  I  didn't  know  I  was 
only  dazzled,  till  you  took  the  light  away.  As  soon  as 
the  bright  spots  faded  from  before  my  eyes,  as  bright 
spots  do  at  last  when  you've  been  staring  at  the  sun,  I  saw 
things  as  they  really  were.  I  saw  what  my  feeling  for 
you  was  worth,  and  what  my  feeling  for  Peggy  might  grow 
to  be.  But  I  tried  not  to  let  it  grow.  I'd  suffered  enough. 
I  was  down  and  out,  and  if  I  wasn't  worthy  of  you,  still 
less  was  I  worthy  of  Peggy.  Besides,  I  thought  she  was 
engaged  to  Dalziel,  and  I  wanted  to  be  glad  for  her.  He's 
a  good  fellow.  Then  we  were  thrown  together  in  Belgium, 
she  and  I;  and  if  I  hadn't  loved  her  before,  I  should  have 


SECRET  HISTORY  315 

begun  to  love  her  then,  as  a  man  loves  just  one  girl  in  his 
life.  Whatever  I  have  done  since — the  few  small  things  I 
have  been  able  to  do — have  all  been  with  the  thought  of 
her  in  my  heart  as  a  lodestar.  So  now  you  will  understand, 
Lady  Diana,  how  little  impression  you  can  make  upon  me 
by  calling  your  sister  a  traitor." 

"You  say  all  this  to  hurt  me!"  Diana  cried  out.  "But 
you  did  care  for  me  once,  Eagle.  Do  not  forget  that ! " 

"I  forget  nothing,"  he  said.  "But  the  time  you  speak 
of  seems  a  long  time  ago,  I  care  so  much  more  for  Peggy 
now.  Just  how  much  I  care  for  her,  I  am  going  to  prove  to 
you  in  a  moment." 

For  a  second  he  paused,  while  Di  waited,  not  know 
ing  what  to  say;  and  it  seemed  as  if  I  were  waiting,  too; 
my  heart  and  breath  stopped  for  his  next  words. 

"If  I  had  ever  loved  you  as  dearly  as  I  once  thought 
I  did,"  he  went  on,  sadness  in  his  voice,  "I  suppose  I 
could  have  refused  you  nothing  when  you  came  to  me  to 
night.  But — I  don't  defend  myself — I  only  confess  to 
the  hardness  in  me;  you  haven't  moved  me  at  all.  You 
were  cruel  as  the  grave  to  me.  I  could  be  cruel  in  return 
to  you.  That  is,  I  could  act  as  I  thought  right  and  be 
indifferent  to  the  effect  on  you.  Your  husband  did  his 
best  to  ruin  me.  Virtually,  he  did  ruin  me.  Even  to 
night  he  has  lied  again,  the  same  old  lie,  to  pull  me  down 
if  he  could  from  the  miserable  little  height  I've  crawled 
up  to,  like  a  singed  moth  creeping  out  of  the  flame.  Did 
you  ever  believe  in  his  truth  and  my  guilt — believe  in  the 
depths  of  your  soul — if  you  have  a  soul?  I  doubt  it! 
Anyhow,  you  helped  his  lies  to-night,  as  often  before;  of 
that  I  have  no  doubt  at  all.  I've  no  mercy  for  you  in  my 


316  SECRET  HISTORY 

heart,  and  none  for  Vandyke.  I  had  none,  even  when  I 
stopped  the  horses  on  your  wedding  day.  I  didn't  do 
that  from  any  softening  of  heart  toward  either  of  you. 
It  was  purely  mechanical.  I'd  have  done  the  same  for  a 
pair  of  thieves,  I  assure  you.  Nothing  you  could  say  to 
me  for  yourself,  Lady  Diana,  would  make  me  give  up  my 
revenge,  or  rather  my  justification,  which — by  his  own 
fault — can't  come  to  me  without  Vandyke's  ruin.  But 
something  you  have  said  about  Peggy  has  made  all  the 
difference." 

"About  Peggy?     What  do  you  mean?"  Di  faltered. 

"You  said  that  she  was  a  *  traitor  to  her  people'  for  my 
sake.  Now,  because  I  love  her,  I  can't  let  her  be  that. 
I  won't  profit  by  her  loyalty  to  me — at  your  expense. 
And  I  won't  have  the  world  say  in  speaking  of  her,  *  There's 
Lady  Peggy  O'Malley,  who  bore  witness  against  her  brother- 
in-law  and  ruined  him.'  For  myself,  I  believe  it  wouldn't 
give  me  a  qualm  if  Vandyke  blew  out  his  brains  to-morrow, 
but  you  have  made  me  realize  that  I  couldn't  bear  it  for 
Tier  sake.  Thank  you  for  that,  Lady  Diana.  Here  is  the 
paper  which  Peggy  found  inside  the  lining  of  your  hus 
band's  coat,  and  brought  to  me.  Because  of  Peggy  and  my 
love  for  her,  take  it  and  do  with  it  as  you  choose." 

Diana  gave  a  little  joyous  shriek,  but  my  cry  of  despair 
mingled  with  it.  I  pushed  back  the  screen  so  that  it  tot 
tered  and  fell  with  a  crash,  as  I  flew  out  in  time  to  seize 
Eagle's  hand  with  the  paper  in  it. 

"No ! "  I  gasped.  "Don't  let  me  have  lived  for  nothing, 
Eagle!  I  would  gladly  have  given  my  life  to  get  this  bit 
of  paper  for  you.  I  shall  die  of  grief  if  I'm  not  to  help  you 
after  all." 


SECRET  HISTORY  317 

Holding  the  written  message  firmly  in  one  hand,  he  laid 
the  other  over  mine. 

"You  heard  all  I  said?"  he  asked.  "I  am  glad.  I 
meant  you  to  hear  it  in  your  sister's  presence.  Yet, 
though  you  heard,  you  speak  of  not  helping  me,  Peggy? 
What  she  said  isn't  true,  then?  It  isn't  true  that  you  love 
me?" 

"It  is  true,  and  you  know  it  only  too  well,"  I  answered, 
hardly  remembering  that  Diana  listened,  hanging  anxiously 
on  every  word  as  on  a  verdict  for  life  or  death.  "  I  worship 
you,  Eagle;  and  that's  why  I  don't  care  to  live  if  you  are 
not  saved.  The  great  chance  has  come,  when  we  least  ex 
pected  it,  and  if  you  don't  take  it  now  it's  in  your  hand — 

"It  seems  to  me  that  my  way  of  taking  the  great  chance 
is  after  all  the  only  way,  if  we  are  to  be  happy.  Peggy,  I 
find  that  I  love  you  too  much  to  take  any  other  way.  Can 
you  love  me  as  I  am,  love  me  enough  to  say:  'Do  what  is 
right  for  you?  " 

"It  is  right  for  ygu  to  have  justice!"  I  pleaded  with 
him. 

"I  would  rather  have  love." 

"You  can  have  both!" 

"No.     It  doesn't  seem  so  to  me." 

"Oh,  you  are  obstinate — obstinate!" 

"Perhaps!  I'm  afraid  I  always  was.  But  I  love  you. 
I've  suffered,  and  now  I  want  to  be  happy  and  at  peace.  It 
isn't  only  for  your  sake.  It's  for  mine  as  well.  Great  love  is 
worthy  of  the  only  great  revenge.  Shall  I  burn  the  paper?  " 

"For  God's  sake,  say  yes,  Peggy!"  I  heard  Diana  sob. 
But  I  hardly  listened.  If  she  said  more,  I  did  not  hear  it. 
I  was  looking  at  Eagle. 


318  SECRET  HISTORY 

"Does  silence  give  consent?"  he  asked.  There  was  a 
new  light  in  his  eyes,  brighter  and  clearer  than  the  careless 
light  of  youth  that  was  lost.  I  could  not  quench  it.  So  I 
bowed  my  head  and  let  the  khaki  coat,  which  half  uncon 
sciously  I  had  been  holding  all  the  time,  drop  to  the  floor. 
The  glory  of  Eagle's  smile  repaid  me.  He  took  my  hand 
in  his,  and  leading  me,  walked  to  the  fireplace.  There  he 
stooped,  and  without  hesitation  dropped  the  paper,  which 
might  have  changed  his  whole  life,  into  the  flames. 

" Good-bye  to  the  past ! "  he  cried.  "Hail  to  the  future ! 
Peggy,  such  as  it  is,  such  as  it  can  be  for  me  now,  will  you 
share  it?" 

"You  know!"  I  whispered. 

He  pressed  my  hand  tightly,  then  turned  to  Diana. 

"You  had  better  go  home  to  your  husband,"  he 
said.  "You  can  sleep  in  peace  to-night,  and  all  nights. 
Presently  I  shall  take  Peggy  to  Hampstead;  but  I  want  her 
to  myself  for  a  moment  first." 

Without  a  word  to  either  of  us,  Diana  obeyed,  her  head 
bent  low.  I  suppose  she  could  find  nothing  to  say,  since 
"Thank  you"  would  be  commonplace:  and  Di  is  never 
commonplace. 

I  heard  Eagle  open  the  door  for  her,  and  shut  it  behind 
the  trailing  white  satin  and  purple  brocade.  Then  he 
came  back  to  me  and  held  out  his  arms. 

I  had  been  in  the  sky  with  him  before,  but  this  was 
heaven. 


He  is  at  the  front  now,  and  has  been  for  a  long  time,  but 
whatever  may  happen,  neither  life  nor  death  can  part  our 


SECRET  HISTORY  319 

souls.  The  sacrifice  he  made  was  for  my  sake,  and  for  the 
sake  of  love.  So  you  see  why,  changing  only  our  names,  I 
have  written  this  bit  of  secret  history  and  told  the  truth 
about  Eagle  March  and  Monsieur  Mars. 


THE  END 


THE   COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS 
GARDEN   CITY,  N.  Y. 


1. 


